1, 2, 3, 4, Have Some Extra Story Lore - Lady_of_War_and_Heartache - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2024)

Chapter 1: congratulations on your bit of success (we can't wait to see what you do next) - Canon Snippet set in the Future

Chapter Text

Hero Ladder @HeroLadderOfficial 🗸

Check out our latest video with Japan’s #27 hero, Stardust, and the #2 hero, Hawks! We discuss everything from family, to reasons for becoming a hero, to finally asking the question we’ve all wanted to know for a while. Watch it now here.

[GIF of the interviewer asking the question “Are you two dating?” followed by Stardust dropping his jaw and Hawks taking a spit-take.]

11.4k🗩 ● 100.7k🗘 ● 3.7m♡

⏶ Hide 11,436 comments

| DustBunnyIsLove @miruko_stan23

f*ck YEAH, NoTP has sunken. I repeat, StarBird is officially sunken!

963🗩 ● 1.1k🗘 ● 221k♡

| GooglyMoogly @perry-the-platypus

no but when stardust talked about his grandma and naming himself after her 🥺 my heart couldn’t take it 😭 he’s so pure!!!

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| hawks-i’m-so-sorry @starbird4life

I feel so guilty about all the StarBird fanart I’ve made. Hawks, if you’re reading this, I didn’t mean to ship you with your baby bro. I don’t subscribe to that incest sh*t, I swear.

564🗩 ● 4.0k🗘 ● 544k♡

⤷ | hawkskinnie @steponmehawks

but they’re not technically related 👀👀👀

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⤷ | heroic chicken nugget @HawksOfficial 🗸

Blocked. Reported. My mom is calling your mom. This is illegal.

1.4k🗩 ● 10.0k🗘 ● 1.4m♡

| HeroFan0901 @civilianWhoLovesHeroes

in all seriousness, how did hawks ever expect to go underground? his giant scarlet wings don’t exactly scream “undercover”

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⤷ | Hydrogen, Helium, and Iron @StardustOfficial 🗸

My nii-san, trying to go on an underground patrol without getting caught:

[GIF of people sneaking in a cemetery singing ‘Don’t be suspicious’]

1.9k🗩 ● 9.9k🗘 ● 1.8m♡

| Senile Old Lady @eat-your-potassium

Can we all take a moment and appreciate how both Hawks and Stardust are complete and total unrepentant mama’s boys?

2.1k🗩 ● 98.3k🗘 ● 2.1m♡

| Star & Stripe’s Wife @star-spangled-bi

Anybody got an English translation of the interview? Confused but eager American wants to know.

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⤷ | Coop with a scoop @JJCooper

Here ya’ go.

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⤷ | Star & Stripe’s Wife @star-spangled-bi

I owe you my life.

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*****

2,937 people are currently reading this document.

[Preview plays: Stardust is sputtering about with no real coherent words leaving his mouth. Hawks is pounding his chest trying to get his lungs to work. Oishi Aiko is sitting in her armchair to the left and looking on. She asks, while the heroes still can’t breathe, “Well, are you?”]

[Channel intro plays.]

Oishi Aiko: Hello, and welcome back to Hero Ladder, the first place to go when you want to get the latest on Japan’s top heroes. Today, I am joined by not one, but two very special guests. Say hi boys!

[Camera shifts to show Stardust and Hawks sitting side by side on a couch.]

Stardust: Hey!

Hawks: Heyo!

Aiko: Welcome. Now, I’m sure you all know how this works. Each of you has a ladder, and attached to each rung is one question commonly asked by our viewers. If you answer the question, you get to climb up the rung. If you refuse, you have to wait for the other person to answer their question, and then you have to answer two other questions before you can climb up. As always, my quirk, Truth Finder, is being used with full consent of the interviewees, and while I will call you out on a lie, I will not force you to answer a question you’re uncomfortable with. The first person to get to the top of their ladder earns bragging rights and gets featured in our weekly article. Sounds worth playing?

Hawks: You had me at bragging rights.

Stardust, laughing: Definitely worth playing.

Aiko: Alright! Exactly what I like to hear. Let’s start with….Hawks! [Hawks fist pumps the air while Stardust pouts a bit] As always, easiest questions first. Where’d you grow up?

Hawks: I was born in f*ckuoka, but I moved to Tokyo when I was seven.

[Hero Ladder worker moves Hawks’ face up one ladder rung]

Aiko: Nice start. Stardust, it’s widely known that you’re a huge fan of video games. How did you start playing, and which one is your favorite?

Stardust: I’ve been playing video games for as long as I can remember, so, ugh, can’t really tell you how I started. [chuckles a bit] But my favorite is probably a tie between the Mecha Hero Trainer series and the special underground edition of Hero’s Multiverse.

Aiko: Didn’t you two play that for your charity stream last month?

Stardust, lighting up: Yeah! We raised over 120,000,000 yen for the You Got the Power foundation. [screen shifts to screenshots of the stream with Stardust, Hawks, Miruko, All Might, Best Jeanist, Gang Orca, Selkie, and Ryuuko taking turns playing] Thanks again to everybody that donated. I think it’s so cool that instead of dropping the MC into another villain universe, the writing team really stepped up to the plate and explored a major twist on the story. Obviously, it’s not one-hundred-percent accurate to underground hero work, but they nailed the aesthetic and the general day-to-day life of that type of hero.

Aiko: You would know more than me. [laughs] But that does get you up a rung. [worker moves Stardust’s picture up.] Back to Hawks. Favorite and least favorite part about your quirk?

Hawks: Flying is the best part, obviously.

Aiko, nodding: Obviously.

Hawks: But I think my least favorite would have to be [Hawks clicks a bit while thinking] my reaction-reflex and danger sense. It’s great when I’m on duty and fighting villains, but when I’m trying to relax, it suuuuuucccckkkkssss.

Aiko: How so?

Hawks: Imagine you have a really anxious child. One that’s constantly spooked by everything. They screech and jump at every little sound, and they turn their head every time something moves in the corner of their eye.

Aiko: Okay.

Hawks: Now give that child a set of throwing daggers.

[Stardust starts to laugh.]

Aiko: I think I can see where this is going.

Hawks: That’s what it’s like to have my built-in animal reactions. I can try to curb them, but because I’m constantly using them on duty, it’s almost impossible to find that magical “off switch” at home.

Stardust, still laughing: He stabs a lot of things with his feathers.

Hawks: A lot of things.

Aiko: Let’s move on. One point Hawks. [Hawks’ picture is slid up.] Starlight, what hero school did you go to?

Stardust: UA. Hero class A.

Aiko: One point Stardust. Ah, looks like we got a match! [sirens whoop three times across the studio] Hawks, what hero school did you go to?

Hawks: Ketsubutsu Academy.

Aiko: Really? Why not UA or Shiketsu?

Hawks, smiling a bit wider: I actually wanted to go underground and focus on domestic abuse and child protective services. Ketsubutsu has, by far, the best underground hero course in the country. UA’s is also spectacular, but if you’re a hero student at UA, it’s hard to keep your head down and out of the limelight.

Aiko: I’d imagine that would be harder. Stardust, how did you choose your hero name?

Hawks: Yes! [pumps his fist in the air] This is a good one!

Stardust: It’s also kind of personal.

Hawks: Come on, it’s cute.

Aiko: And not to mention, you can’t let Hawks take the lead. [Points at ladders. Hawks is on rung 3 while Stardust is on rung 2]

Stardust: Fine. Okay, okay, okay. So. I don’t know if you’ve heard of her, but there’s this awesome Silver Age hero by the name of Starlight. [As Stardust continues to talk, a picture of a female hero with a black bodysuit, white cape, and yellow gloves comes on screen. She smiles brightly as she flies through the air and punches a giant villain. On the other half of the screen is Stardust with a matching smile, matching black bodysuit, iconic yellow animator gloves, wrapping his white cape around a child he just saved from a collapsing building.] She was noted to have held the record for most people saved in a single night before All Might made his debut and blew that record out of the water.

Aiko, nodding: So you named yourself after her because you’re a fan.

Stardust, scratching at his neck: Yes and no. Starlight is my grandmother. And despite never having met her, I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by these stories and this great big legacy she’s left behind. My grandpa and my dad would always tell me how she inspired them to become the men they are today, and there’s this one story that Dad always tells and that I always try to emulate on the field. ‘Your grandmother always said being a hero is more than just saving people. When you save someone, they are having a terrible day. Maybe even the worst day of their life. And your grandmother would always say that in those moments, it was vital that the face they see is one of a confident, reassuring smile. Because to truly save a person, you have to save their heart, too.’

Aiko: Sounds like All Might was a Starlight fanboy.

[Stardust and Hawks both flail and stutter]

Aiko: Maybe you should sue him for stealing your grandmother’s words.

Stardust: Oh. OH! [nervously laughs] Nah. It’s not a big deal. But hey, if All Might was inspired by Grandma, then that just makes her even more awesome, right?

Aiko: Yeah, you’re right. [sirens blare across the room, bathing the studio in red light]

Hawks: Wait, already?

Aiko: Guess so. It’s time for Mirror Image [card with ‘Mirror Image’ covers the screen while electric guitar plays in the background] We’ve gotten to the point in the show where the fans’ questions from here on out are identical or near-identical for both of you. You will both be asked the same question, and if you both answer, you stay where you are on the ladder. If one answers but the other doesn’t, the one who answered will move up. Are you ready?

Stardust: Yeah!

Hawks: Let’s go!

Aiko: First question. How do you feel about your place in the hero rankings?

Stardust: I feel pretty good. Twenty-seven is one heck of a rank for only my second year in the industry, and if I don’t climb much higher, I won’t be too hurt.

Aiko: I don’t even think Hawks has to answer this one. We all know how he feels.

Hawks, groaning: I hate it!

Stardust, smirking: He hates it.

Hawks: I hate it!

Aiko, laughing: But why though?

Hawks: I mentioned earlier that I went to Ketsubutsu, right? Well, I graduated top of my class. And for the past ten years, every number one student from each heroics class gets one full year of sponsorship and management from the graduating business classes. After some egging from my friends and this bastard [gestures towards Stardust, who is smiling amusedly] I decided to take that offer and go spotlight for a year before I quit and went underground.

Stardust: And then you got in the top ten.

Hawks: And then I got in the top ten. And once you break the record as the youngest person in the world to ever get in their country’s top ten ranked heroes, you can kiss any chance of a career in underground heroics goodbye.

Aiko: And now you’re the number two hero. How’s that working out for you?

Hawks: It’s tough. There’s this near-universal belief that, because All Might is probably going to have the number one spot until he dies, I’m essentially the new-blood number one, ya’ know? People are constantly comparing me to All Might, but I’m so different from All Might. He’s strength, I’m speed. He’s power, I’m precision. He’s a mammoth of a man, I’m a literal third his size. We’re almost too different to even compare, but people still try to do it anyway. But all I can do is go out there every day and save as many people as I can.

Aiko: Good answer. Next one: who is your hero BFF?

Stardust: Thirteen.

Hawks: Miruko.

Aiko: Neither one a surprise. Would either of you like to expand on your answers?

Hawks: Well, if I have to. [All three laugh] Miruko’s my mutant buddy. As the nation’s top two mutant-quirked heroes, we kind of connected and have this mutual understanding that we’re here to represent people like us. We don’t team up a lot, because she’s against them on principle and because I go too fast for most to keep up with, but we are constantly going at each other about how many villains we’ve caught and meeting up to grab food after patrol. If I had to pick someone other than her, it’d either be Gang Orca or Best Jeanist. Orca’s my other mutant buddy, and I appreciate Jeanist’s efficiency on the job.

Stardust: I interned for Thirteen my first year of UA, and we’ve been friends since. They’re only five years older than me, and I’ve learned so much from them about rescue work and heroing as a whole. It’s because of them that I started to specialize in rescue and got more comfortable with my quirk. When I graduated and they offered me a spot at their agency as a co-hero, I jumped at the chance. My one complaint about the whole thing is that we can’t become an official hero team. Curse their amazing teaching skills and UA’s eye for talent.

Aiko: Would you become a hero duo with them if you could?

Stardust: Duh. We’re compatible on and off the field, and I work best when I’m working with them. But they have their heart set on teaching, so I’m left to man the agency. Maybe one day if we take on a few more sidekicks, or if I ever decide I want to teach.

Aiko: What about you, Hawks? Would you ever make a hero duo or hero team?

Hawks: Ehh… Probably not. I need people who can keep up with me, and who can compliment my fighting style. Speedsters are not known for their versatility in the air, and most flyers can’t hit the speeds I can. The one place I could maybe join on full-time would be Ingenium’s branch of Idaten. The sidekicks there have such a wide range of abilities that I’m sure I could make a kickass team with at least a few of them. But other than that, I’m probably stuck as a loner.

Aiko: Alas, I don’t think that’ll happen. But team-ups aren’t the only relationship you see between heroes. Our next question is a little more personal. [While Aiko is talking, Hawks gestured for a water bottle, which was tossed to him from off-screen. He takes a swig just as Aiko asks:] Are you two dating?

[Stardust drops his jaw, while Hawks does a spit-take and starts choking on his water.]

Aiko: Surely, you must have heard this question before. According to our polls, you two are one of the most-shipped hero couples. [Stardust starts sputtering incoherently as Hawks pounds his chest.] Well, are you? Are two of Japan’s top bachelors an item?

Hawks: No!

Stardust: Absolutely not--

Hawks: I would never--

Stardust: He’s not even my type--

[They both sputter and wave their hands in denial before pointing at each other and saying in unison]

Stardust & Hawks: That’s my BROTHER!

Aiko, blinking slowly: I…don’t think I see the relation.

Hawks: Well, yeah. Adopted brother.

Stardust: But still, brother. No romance. Absolutely NO romance.

Aiko: How did that come about?

Hawks, continuing after letting out a nervous chirp: When I was seven, our mom removed me from my birth parents’ custody because they were unfit to care for me. Eight months later, I had a brother, a new mom, a new dad, and a ton of aunts and uncles.

Aiko: Stardust, what was it like having another child suddenly in the house?

Stardust: Oh, I was in the same boat. Mom found me, like, two weeks before she found him. We have the same adoption day.

Aiko, confused: But your dad is your grandma’s son?

[Hawks and Stardust share a look.]

Stardust: Okay, let’s see if we can explain this without mapping out our entire, very confusing, very large family tree. Mom and Dad both grew up in the foster system. My bio grandma was Dad’s foster mother. When Grandma died, Dad’s custody was transferred to Grandpa, who was one of Grandma’s friends and fellow heroes. After a series of events that left me without a family, Mom started fostering me.

Hawks: Two weeks later, Mom started fostering me too. She met Dad, and they adopted us. Fifteen years later, and here we are.

Aiko, slowly nodding in understanding: I think I’ve got it. But to recap: you two are not an item.

Stardust & Hawks: No.

Aiko: And you’re brothers.

Stardust & Hawks: Yes.

Aiko, laughing awkwardly: Well I feel foolish. But why haven’t you established all this before?

Hawks: We like our privacy. Mom and Dad are huge pre-quirk hero fans, and we kind of grew up with the movies and the comics. And as any fan knows, revealing your identity is a bad idea.

Stardust, nodding in agreement: It’s bad. Very, very bad. And hey, if All Might has a secret identity, then so can we.

Aiko: Fair enough. Moving on. Why did you decide to become a hero?

[Hawks chirps again and Stardust blows his hair out of his face.]

Stardust: Really hitting us with the big ones, huh?

Aiko, raising her hands up: Don’t blame me, blame the viewers.

Stardust: But still.

Hawks: Can we pass on this one?

Aiko: Sure, but if you pass and Stardust answers, then you lose.

[Hawks chitters in indignation while Stardust smirks.]

Stardust: Well, why didn’t you say so? I’ve wanted to be a hero since I was four. Pretty normal, right? Well, as I grew up, I was constantly surrounded by these great heroes and their influence: Grandma, Mom, Grandpa. I might not technically be a Legacy Hero, but heroing is, without a doubt, a family business. So I spent my entire life working to be a hero and get into UA, my dream school. And I remember very clearly, the night I filled out my UA application, Mom kind of took me aside and asked me if I was sure this was what I wanted. She told me that she didn’t want me to feel pressured into following in anybody’s footsteps and that she’d support me if I wanted to change my mind. And I remember just looking at her and saying, ‘I’m sure.’ She asked, ‘Really? You’re ready to commit to this?’ I said ‘Yeah. How else am I going to make the world as wonderful as you showed me it could be?’

Aiko: Oh my god, that’s so precious.

Stardust: I know. Now, nii-san. [shoots Hawks a sh*t-eating grin] You going to answer, or you going to let me win?

[Hawks slaps Stardust upside the head. Stardust laughs]

Hawks: Shut up. You don’t get to judge when your answer doesn’t include a part of your Tragic Backstory.

Aiko: Oh ho ho, is this a capital letter Tragic Backstory?

Hawks: Yes. And we just went over how I value my privacy, so obviously, I don’t wanna answer.

Stardust: You could always--

Hawks: No, I can’t. [glares at him and takes a deep breath] Okay. So. So. When I was with my bio parents, it was… not great. Very not great. And long, painful story short, Mom was the hero who saved me from them. And ever since, I’ve always wanted to be like her. To be able to save the people that don’t think they’re going to be saved, or who think there’s nothing they need to be saved from.

Aiko: That sounds like a very good drive to be a hero.

Hawks: Thank you. Now can we get to the next question, please?

Aiko: Of course. Last one. Of all the questions submitted by our viewers, the most asked one about Stardust and Hawks was: who are you dating?

Hawks: Yes!

Stardust: No!

Hawks: Yessssssssssss!

Stardust: Noooooooooo!

Aiko: Those are some very different reactions.

Hawks: I’m dating an underground hero by the name of Moonburn. I love them very much, and I love them even more right now because they are open about our relationship.

Stardust: I’m not answering that.

Aiko: Really? No judging if you’re single.

Stardust: No comment.

Aiko: Going once. Going twice. [victory trumpets sound throughout the studio] And that’s a wrap. Hawks is this week’s winner.

[Hawks whoops]

Aiko: Tune in next week to see who braves the Hero Ladder next. Thanks for listening, and stay safe.

[Outro music plays as the camera shows Hawks and Stardust talk to each other until, and then eventually break out into a pillow fight with the couch throw pillows.]

*****

Vampire Child: oooo~ somebody’s keeping secrets 👀

OG Child: dad i’m scared.

Dad Might: Hi, Scared. I’m Dad.

OG Child: 👁👄👁

Eldest Child: *deep sigh*

Bird Child: this is why you summon mom, not dad

Bird Child: speaking of which @Mama Nighteye

Bird Child: MOM, TENKO’S TRYING TO KILL ME

OG Child: am not.

Mama Nighteye: Tenko, no killing your siblings. Keigo, no pushing Tenko’s limits.

Mama Nighteye: And don’t tell me you aren’t. I know you well enough to know when you’re being intentionally irritative.

OG Child: thank you

Purple Child: mom is clearly holding the family brain cell. as usual.

American Child: Back on topic. I just saw the interview, and somebody’s got a secret date mate.

American Child: Spill.

OG Child: Leave me alone :(

Vampire Child: thank you neechan. yeah tenten. who’s the lucky person?

Purple Child: that we now have to give a very intense shovel talk to.

OG Child: @Eldest Child shouldn’t you be on my side?

Eldest Child: Hizashi survived his shovel talk with grace. Yours should too.

OG Child: traitor.

Green Child: Natsuo, Rumi, or Shuuichi.

Vampire Child: what?

Bird Child: ????

Green Child: Based on the amount of time Tenko-nii spends with people outside of work and family, how he physically and verbally reacts to their presence, and how much he talks about them, he must be in a relationship with either Himura Natsuo, Usagiyama Rumi, or Iguchi Shuuichi.

OG Child: ….

OG Child: how the f*ck

Uncle God™: Wonderful deductions, Midoriya-kun!

Vampire Child: good job Izu! ヽ(´▽`)/

Bird Child: we got a name, gents. jot that down, jot that down.

Mama Nighteye: Might we please set aside the matter of Tenko’s love life for a moment? I do believe Hitoshi and Izuku should at least be attempting to go to sleep soon. You both have a very big day tomorrow.

American Child: Oh, that’s right! You’re taking the UA entrance exam.

Purple Child: mom you know i’m not going to sleep tonight.

Mama Nighteye: I still have some hope. And even if you don’t, you should be winding down and stepping away from the screens.

Mama Nighteye: Also, no unnecessary cramming. It’ll just stress you out for the actual test. If all else fails, you know Nedzu and I will be up. Join us for tea and to talk out your nerves if need be.

Purple Child: yes mom.

Dad Might: Izuku my boy? Are you there?

Green Child: jdfskjiwakdkoafnmkj yes.

Green Child: I’ll log out of the hero forums and try to turn off my brain.

Mama Nighteye: Thank you.

American Child: Good luck, boys!

Green Child: Thanks.

Purple Child: we’ll need it.

Chapter 2: Teacher AU

Chapter Text

"And so, Nedzu-san, I've chosen to accept your offer to teach even though I have already found a successor."

"Wonderful! Now you just need to pass Mirai's interview, and you'll be all set."

"Mirai?" All Might asked, but Principal Nedzu was already scampering out of his office and down the hallway, leaving him no option but to follow.

The dog-bear-mouse thing led him to a discreet-looking door with a simple plaque. 'Vice Principal Sasaki Mirai,' it read, with a smaller plaque added on underneath, 'The Foreseeing Hero: Madam Nighteye.'

Nedzu knocked a special pattern on the door, and after a moment, a voice called from within, "Come in, Nedzu. And tell All Might to deflate. He's already on a time limit; he can't afford to waste it on me."

"YOU TOLD HER ABOUT ME?" All Might asked incredulously as the door swung open.

Nedzu laughed. "Yagi-san, I don't keep secrets from my most trusted confidant. That would rather defeat the purpose of having one. But if it's any comfort, I didn’t tell her a thing about All for One, One for All, or your condition."

"Then how does she know?"

"She has her ways, Yagi-san. But if you want to know, call Gran Torino and ask him about some old friends of his by the name of Evergreen and Thunderclap," the woman behind the desk said off-handedly. She looked up from her papers, and gold eyes met sapphire, "Now, convince me as to why I should let you anywhere near my students. Starting with how you ever expect to gain the position of a teacher with no prior experience and no teaching license."

As Yagi Toshinori started to sputter a reply, he wondered for a second about how a woman nearly two decades his junior could be this terrifying.

*****

For all that Sasaki Mirai could change the future, she was nowhere near the only person with that power.

Take Nedzu, for example.

There aren’t many universes where the genetically modified albino badger has people that he loves. But when he does, he loves with a vengeance. He loves slowly, steadily, and completely conscious of every moment.

For when Nedzu loves, it is not the type of love where you throw yourself from the top of the highest tower and suddenly become aware the moment you hit the ground. No, Nedzu’s love is slowly descending from that tower, step by step, fighting himself every moment of the way, until he enters the golden sunlight and finally understands what it’s like to be warm.

And once he gains that warmth, he does whatever it takes to never, ever lose it.

“There’s a position open at UA,” Nedzu tells Mirai one night. It’s been a week since she found Shimura-kun, and she’s just gotten off the phone with Gran Torino. It’s the second time she called him, and he’s just as unwilling to hear her out as the first. “We need a tutor for English, and I know you have the certifications stating you’re fluent.”

“I do not have a teaching license, nor do I have a bachelor’s degree,” Mirai countered. The bags under her eyes were larger than usual, and Nedzu had counted a record number of four grammatical errors in her daily reports. Clearly, the added responsibilities of caring for Shimura-kun were adding up. “I wouldn’t be qualified to teach at such a prestigious school.”

“Not teach. Tutor. And an emergency license gained with your high school heroics degree would be adequate for now.”

“And how do you imagine I’d be able to squeeze in tutoring on top of my hero duties and caring for Tenko-kun?”

“You’d cut back on your hours at the IUCA, naturally.” Mirai gave him a look, but Nedzu continued, undeterred, “You are going to be raising a young, traumatized child not yet of school age. One that the most feared supervillain of our time will be avidly searching for, no less. He cannot afford to have you die on the job, Mirai. If such a thing occurred, I’d highly doubt Shimura-kun would fully recover.”

That argument, at the least, gave her pause, “Thank you for thinking of Tenko, Nedzu. But I’m certain I’m up for the challenge.”

A few days later, when Nedzu begins to see exactly how attached Mirai’s become to Shimura-kun, he buries the miscellaneous file stating that Shimura Nana was Yagi Toshinori’s temporary foster mother. Ripping the boy away from his friend would break her, and delivering the child into the hands of an unprepared workaholic would do nobody any favors. It was better for Mirai to take sole custody and let the newly minted mother and son be.

The finding and subsequent adopting of Takami Keigo only reaffirm Nedzu’s belief that leaving out the complication that was Yagi Toshinori was the right call, and the renegotiation of Mirai’s heroing contract and writing of her tutoring one solidifies it.

And so, because one badger was a little more conscious of human emotions, decisions were altered, households were rearranged, and the timeline once again splintered in a new direction.

*****

"So let me get this straight," Vice Principal Nighteye says in a tone she mostly reserved for the most unruly of first-years, "You planned to teach. In your hero form. Even though you're already on a time limit that wouldn't last the entire school day."

All Might fidgets in his seat and doesn't meet the Vice Principal's gaze.

Nighteye continues to look at him expectantly. All Might realizes she's not going to stop until he answers her not-quite-a-question.

"....yes?"

Nighteye looked unimpressed, and Toshinori got the feeling he gave the wrong answer.

"And what happens when people question why you no longer patrol AND teach, just like the rest of the staff?"

"I was hoping to only teach my successor's class, so as to preserve some of my time."

Somehow, Nighteye looked even less impressed than before. "And what happens when it inevitably gets out that you cut back on your heroing hours only to teach one specific class?"

"....people would assume that class has high potential?"

Madam Nighteye gazed up at the ceiling and looked as if she was asking some higher power for strength. "Let’s try again. Imagine that Stars and Stripes suddenly decided to start teaching at a hero school in America. She insisted upon only teaching one class, and one particular student in said class had a quirk identical, or nearly identical, to hers. What would be the natural assumption made about Stars and Stripes and that student?”

“....that there’s a relationship of some sort?”

“Yes. People would assume that there’s a relationship of some sort, be that one of blood, or apprenticeship. Now, if you were to do the same here at UA, what would the press begin to do?”

It dawned on Toshinori where the Vice Principal was going. He groaned, and placed his head in his hands, “They would immediately connect Young Midoriya to me. Fuuuuuuccckkkkk.”

Nighteye nodded, “While your bachelor in heroics and your emergency teaching license does validate you as a candidate for your position, I must insist against your plans to do so in your hero form. Either you teach all six hero classes and waste your entire time limit at school, or you teach one year of students and risk exposing your protegee.”

“Then what should I do?”

“I think it’s obvious, really: teach in your natural form.” She gestured at his gaunt figure. “Not only does this protect your successor, as they can learn from your wisdom and experience without the added baggage of the All Might name, but it also frees you to utilize your time limit as a hero rather than a teacher. And, if you are notified of an emergency that only All Might can handle, you would be free to leave class at your leisure. You would hardly be the first hero on staff; protocols have long been established for heroes to depart at the drop of a hat.”

Toshinori felt himself nodding along with the woman’s ideas, “That sounds extremely well-managed, ma’am. It would also allow me to keep the circle of people in the know about my injury limited to yourself, Nedzu-san, Torino-san, Recovery Girl-sensei, and Young Midoriya. I believe I shall follow through with what you have outlined.”

“Wonderful. Now that that’s settled, let’s go over your course syllabus.”

“....my what now?”

*****

As much as she hates to admit it, Nedzu was right about her position at UA. While she had always been hesitant to attach herself to the ‘academia’ part of her new world, she had to confess that tutoring settled something in her that she hadn’t even known was restless.

Talking regularly in her first language was comforting, as was the added time she could now spend with her boys and her siblings. Evergreen had taken to her cut hours like a champ, and though seeing Twice settled in the agency for the first time had nearly given her a heart attack, his presence had vastly cut down on the amount of time she spent doing and correcting other people’s paperwork.

In short, Mirai was satisfied with her two jobs, her two kids, and the perfect management of everything else.

You’d think that would have helped her internal panicking every time she met a new canon character, but you’d be wrong.

“You seem to have awfully good grades in English, Aizawa-kun,” she started slowly, reading over his student file and thinking through ways to scare him from her office in such a manner that he would never approach her for homework help again. She gets through a solid four-and-a-half scenarios before halting that part of her treacherous brain and placing her full attention on the student and conversation in front of her. No matter how much she wants to isolate herself from the main plot, she is the adult in this situation, and a student needs help. It is her responsibility to assist him in any way possible, no matter her personal feelings about it.

“I know,” Aizawa Shouta of class 1-C says, “But they aren’t where I need them to be.”

“And what is your goal?”

“Ninety-five percent.”

She checked his file again and met his eyes, “Interesting. Because that’s the cut-off you need to meet by the end of the semester if you want to transfer courses. And all of your other grades are at that cut-off or higher.”

Aizawa shifted in his chair, “Yeah? What of it?”

“It says here that you initially applied to the hero course.”

“So?” The boy sat up in his chair and grit his teeth in frustration. Defensive, almost.

“So, I want the name of the career advisor that said you can transfer solely based on grades, because whoever did so is either sabotaging you or incompetent to a laughable degree.”

He froze in his seat and watched wide-eyed as Mirai pulled out more files, “This is UA. Any transfers in or out of the hero course need to be approved by a majority of the teachers. Teachers who already passed you over for the hero course once. And nobody likes to be proven wrong. If you want to transfer in, you need to prove that you belong nowhere else.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Start with your coursework. I want you at least a month ahead by the sports festival. The hero classes learn at twice the pace of gen-ed to fit in time for their specialized heroics courses. Grades come next. You already have a good start, but we’ll schedule weekly meetings to guarantee you get English where you need it to be. If you can maintain your high grades while being ahead of your peers by so much, it will prove that you can hold your own academically.”

“Okay,” Aizawa-kun nodded, “Is there anything else, Sasaki-sensei?”

“How adept are you in a fight?”

“....I got twenty-two villain points in the entrance exam?”

“Do you have an after-school job?”

“No.”

“Very well then,” Nighteye considered the boy in front of her, “Have you heard of hero apprenticeships?”

That night, Mirai gets reamed out by her siblings for (supposedly) adopting another child. She’s quick to point out that she is his tutor, not his mother, and that she’s only taken him on as a temporary apprentice to help prove to UA that he has the qualifications necessary for the hero course.

She’s also quick to ignore Nedzu’s statements that he’s never gone that far for one of his students before. She knows the badger just wants to add fuel to the fire and watch the world burn.

*****

“Yagi-san, you’ve been to school. You know that teachers have syllabuses. Why did you assume you wouldn’t need one?”

“I was hoping that I could just work off of the last teacher’s class schedule and adjust as needed.”

“The previous heroics schedule was composed by the six different heroics homeroom teachers, Nedzu-san, Thirteen-san, and myself, with the intent of each teacher tweaking it to fit their needs. The entire point of hiring you beyond giving you a cover to step away from the spotlight was to have a single teacher handling the basic heroics classes. That would thus give the homeroom teachers room to focus on their other responsibilities, and our school a known foundation to build off of.”

“I thought that UA prided itself on its unconventional teaching styles?”

“It does; we do. But when the past five rounds of second years have notable gaps in their education -- all for different subjects, at that -- unconventional becomes detrimental. We need a minimum standard of what first-year heroics students are to learn, or else we will be in a similar state to last year when the incoming class 2-A had almost no knowledge of basic rescue procedure, and the incoming class 2-B didn’t know a thing about underground work or basic investigating.”

“That sounds like a mess,” Toshinori said idly.

“You have no idea,” Vice Principal Nighteye rubbed at her temples and continued, “I will largely leave what you teach and how you teach it up to you, but I must insist on a minimum of five units with basic heroics law, basic rescue and safety procedure, basic fighting and self-defense, basic investigating, and basic weapons safety covered. If you wish to add more units, projects, lessons, etcetera, be my guest.”

“That’s more than reasonable,” Toshinori nodded to himself, “Might I have the previous lessons to see what I can improve upon?”

“Assuming you get this position, I’ll email them to you later. Now, let’s discuss the disciplinary system….”

*****

Shouta continues to pace Nighteye-sensei’s office floor and weaves his capture scarf through his fingers in an attempt to calm down.

“You really should be heading home by now,” Sensei says, looking up from the papers on her desk, “Big day tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Then you’re here because….”

Because he’s got one shot to make it, and he’s nervous he’ll blow it. Because he doesn’t want to let the one chance he has of achieving his dream pass him by. Because he already failed once, and he doesn’t want history to repeat itself.

Because for the first time in his life, he’s got people that believe in him. Sensei, Yoshino-kun, Void-san, Stormborn-san, Imada-san. Even Nighteye-sensei’s two little kids that oh and ah every time they come down to the sparring mats and watch him learn. And he’s terrified that he’s going to let them all down.

“Shouta-kun,” Sensei says, “What’s my quirk?”

“Huh?” he looks up from his hands, letting his scarf hang limp and lifeless between his fingers, “Foresight.”

“And what does it do?”

“It lets you see the future.”

“Good. Now, what’s its success rate?”

“One hundred percent,” he huffed.

“One hundred percent,” Sensei nodded, “I’d like to think that such a success rate gives me a little weight when I talk about the future. And even though I’ve never used it on you, Shouta-kun, I feel more than confident when I say this: you are going to be an amazing hero.

“You have worked ten times harder than any student in the hero class. You have reached the standards I set all those weeks ago and more. You have taken to the IUCA like All Might to America, and I don’t think even I adapted to the underground as fast as you did. And win or lose tomorrow, you are going to be a damn good hero. Who cares if you don’t win the sports festival? Your apprenticeship with me will be open for as long as you want it, and I know Ketsubutsu will gladly take a UA transfer with your record. But you will be a hero one day, Shouta, even if it’s not one of this school.”

He buries his head in his scarf and looks away from her, “Thanks, Sensei. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, Shouta-kun. Now unless you want to crash on a futon at my place or take a temporary room at the IUCA for the night, head home and sleep. You’ll need to be at your best tomorrow.”

He turns down the extra futon at the Sasaki-Nedzu household but takes the room at the IUCA. Bubaigawara-kun chatters at him over breakfast, uncoiling the tight spring of nerves that bounce around in his stomach. It uncoils even more when Nightlight-san walks him to school with her fiance and tells him to crush it and that they’ll be watching from the stands. Nighteye-sensei quietly pulls him aside right before the first years are welcomed onto the field and wishes him luck one last time. He hugs her, hard and quick, before running off to avoid having to confront any illogical feelings.

He survives the UAified game of flag tag, pairs up with Void-san's cousin to destroy their competition in the piggyback race, and takes down one, two, three hero course students in the one-on-one fights.

It all culminates in a final brawl that's a lot less climactic than it has any right to be. The blond co*ckatoo from 1-A is a ranged fighter that doesn't know what to do when Shouta's eyes flash red and he suddenly can't use that sonic scream of his that's been blowing opponents away all day.

Shouta moves in quick and hits harder and quicker. His right hook is all function and no flash, and he doesn't give his opponent a second to recover before he's sending a roundhouse kick right at his stomach. He doesn't give a sh*t that people are crying foul about fighting dirty: Sensei's long-since drilled it into his head that there is no such thing as fighting dirty as long as you stay alive.

It takes three more punches, one more kick, and a single flying tackle to push the co*ckatoo out of bounds. The crowd sucks in a tense breath as Shouta hears Nedzu-san announce into the loudspeakers that Aizawa Shouta of class 1-C has won the first-year sports festival. The first gen-ed student in history to do so.

Shouta receives nothing but shocked, polite applause during the medal ceremony, but he couldn't care less. The world-ending party the IUCA throws that night and Sensei's small, proud smile more than make up for it.

*****

"But aren't rivalries good for students?" Toshinori asks, "Some people need that extra push to reach their full potential."

"Yes, for some, a bit of competition is vital for an ideal learning environment. But such relationships must be monitored to ensure they remain healthy.” The vice principal drummed her fingers against the desk in idle thought, eyes gaining a faraway look. “One-sided rivalries can quickly turn to resentment if a party continues to go unacknowledged by the other. I also must insist that you check in on students to see how they feel about the other’s behavior. There was one case back when I first started at UA when a protegee of mine was being bullied by another student, and their homeroom teacher did nothing because they dismissed it as a simple rivalry between two teen boys.”

*****

“Man, Aizawa. It’s so cool that your mom was able to pull some strings and get Sensoji booted to 2-B. It must be great having a parent as a teacher,” Shirakumo told Shouta during lunch. It was the first week of second year, and the arrogant bully had forcibly switched classes on the excuse of class B’s homeroom teacher being better suited to teach Sensoji how to increase his quirk’s power.

“For the last time, Nighteye-sensei isn’t my mom. And even if she was, she’s a tutor, not a teacher. She doesn’t have the power or the influence to get kids transferred.” That wasn’t to say Shouta minded the transfer. Sensoji had been giving him sh*t for his ‘weak’ quirk ever since he’d gotten bumped up to the hero course. And though Nighteye-sensei had helped him gather evidence against the other boy, she had flat-out told him that she had no power on whatever punishment the teachers and the principal dolled out, if he was even punished at all.

“Hey, we got Tensei out of it, so I’m not complaining,” Yamada butted in. Iida nodded along as he munched on his lemon arugula salad. “Now if only Nemuri could get held back a grade, we’d all be rocking together.”

“I don’t think poor Ban-sensei could handle all five of us,” Iida said around his chipmunk cheeks full of salad. He swallowed hastily before continuing, “But enough about Sensoji. I want to know who we’re all interning with this year. If we pass the licensing exam, we can do work studies, so why don’t we pick our internships with who we’d like to work under. Ya’know, just to test the waters before we commit.”

“Well, then I’m going back to the IUCA,” Shouta said, “I’m still Nighteye-sensei’s apprentice, and she’s planning to let me in on a full case if I complete my work-study under her. Nothing big, but bigger than the patrols we’ve been running so far.”

“I was thinking Buster Union,” Yamada smiled and twirled his chopsticks around his words, “I need to learn how to fight against people who can overpower me, and they’re famous for their serious heavy-hitters.”

“Mom and Dad are letting me have a bit more sway in handling the agency,” Iida smiled a bit and shrugged, “They’ve got their hands full with Tenya, and I think they’re going to give me a chance to run it fully on my own during my work-study. I think they’re testing me on whether or not I’m ready to handle it when I graduate, or if I need a few more years before they pass it on.”

“Screw you all with your thought-out career plans,” Shirakumo said bitterly, “Do you know how hard it is to find heroes with weather quirks that are combat-oriented? It’s like people see a weather hero, and shove them on ocean rescue for life.”

Shouta shrugged, “Can’t say I’m surprised. Stormborn-san says it’s a pain to fight in urban terrains and that she’s had to learn a lot of hand-to-hand to make up for it.”

Shirakumo’s eyes slowly turned towards him, “Shouta. Is there a combat weather-user at the IUCA?”

Shouta shrugged and took a bite of noodles, “Two if you count Thunderclap-san. But he’s more of an ambush specialist and doesn’t use his quirk on patrols unless he’s really screwed.”

“Shouta,” Shirakumo grabbed him by the shoulders and squared up to face him, “There are two combat weather-users at the IUCA. And you didn’t tell me?”

Shirakumo started shaking him by the shoulders and freaking out. Shouta just sighed in acceptance and let him.

“I have spent an entire year looking for a mentor that could help me learn to utilize my quirk in a fight, and you’ve been sitting on not one, but two of them?”

Shirakumo stopped shaking him and looked him dead in the eye, “Where do I go to sign up for an internship at the IUCA?”

*****

“I don’t think the therapy pushing is going to do much,” Toshinori pointed out, “It took me years to work through my biases and finally attend, and then another year or so to start seeing major results. Teenagers are, in my experience, closed-lipped and impatient. I can’t imagine that many would have the will to go to something regularly if it won’t immediately benefit them. And there’s also the stigma that heroes must be strong all the time. They might avoid it out of principle just so they don’t appear ‘weak’ to their classmates.”

“The point isn’t to force them to attend, Yagi-san. It’s to ensure that they understand that the resource is there for them if and when they need it. Heroics is a dangerous, dangerous profession, and there might be a time when the students go through something they are not ready for, and we must be ready to help pick up the pieces.”

*****

Despite his own illogical emotions and his inability to help with the boys’, Shouta hasn’t left Tenko and Keigo’s side for a minute.

Nighteye-sensei just went in for her third surgery, and Nedzu-san is on the phone with Recovery Girl giving her the address to the hospital. Oboro’s being held for a concussion and is waiting for his parents to get here and discharge him into their care.

“I’m sorry,” Shouta tells the two boys, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Not your fault,” Tenko says, “You weren’t the bad guy that hurt Mom, and if you didn’t stop the bad guy, he could have hurt her more. Or hurt somebody else.”

Silent, stone-faced Keigo, who’s fallen into some old habits, just nods in agreement.

“But still, I’m sorry.”

“Can you sing for us?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can try.”

His creaky, raspy, sob-filled voice makes it through five renditions of Tenko’s song, and four of Keigo’s before both boys fall asleep on his lap. Once he’s sure they’re out, he holds them tight and lets the tears silently fall as he hears Nedzu-san say that Recovery Girl is on her way.

*****

Mirai is almost done putting All Might through his paces. She knew from the second Nedzu escorted him down that she had no real choice in whether or not the man got hired. But dammit, she was going to hammer his idiocy out of his thick skull if it was the last thing she did.

Time limit, syllabus, disciplinary measures, toxic student relationships, and therapy. Was she missing anything?

Oh, right. His bull-headed handling of One for All.

“I believe that’s all for your job interview, but, off the record, I do have one final question for you.”

“Go ahead, ma’am.”

“Would it be possible for me to meet your successor?”

“May I ask what for?”

“Well, assuming they pass the entrance exam, they are going to be one of my students. I’d like to make it clear to them that someone on staff is aware of their quirk and their situation. And while I’m sure you know One for All best, I also know that sometimes two heads are better than one and that your student might benefit from a more analytical approach over your straight-forward one.”

All Might relaxed a bit at her words.

“That would be most helpful, Sasaki-san. Young Midoriya is an intellectual at heart, and though I have every confidence that he’s the next bearer of One for All, he might appreciate your approach over mine.”

“Wonderful. Perhaps you could bring him and his parents in for a meeting, say, two or three days after the entrance exam? That would be enough time for us to determine whether Midoriya will enter the heroics course, the gen-ed course, or another school, and what our respective steps would be from there.”

All Might, as expected, started to look a little squirrely at the mention of parents. She just continued to beam at him, waiting for him to admit that he hasn’t told Midoriya Inko jacksh*t about One for All or his relationship with Izuku.

Sure enough, the man started to act cagey under her prolonged gaze. “Well, uhm, about that….”

“Yes, Yagi-san?”

“I haven’t told Midoriya-shonen’s parents about One for All?”

She leveled him with a glare, which he shrunk back from, “Yagi-san, as a mother of four, let me assure you that something like this is exactly the type of thing we should know. Did you expect the Midoriyas to completely accept their child’s quirk mutating in a completely unexpected way and not question it?”

“....I thought that they would just be happy that their son finally has a quirk and not question it much?”

“Did you expect the parents of a quirkless child to roll with a random quirk manifesting out of nowhere with no warnings whatsoever? Especially considering the fact that quirkless children must be taken to who knows how many pediatricians to verify their status?”

All Might winced.

“Should I tell them?”

“Yes!”

*****

By the time they graduated, Nighteye-sensei had fully recovered and had taken up the position of English teacher at UA. Though her injuries hadn’t been career-ending, they had woken her up to the reality that Tenko and Keigo didn’t have another parent to rely upon should she pass. Oh, Nedzu-san, Imada-san, Yamaoka-sensei, and Takeda-san would certainly step up to care for them, but they couldn’t fill the hole she would leave in their hearts, and she knew it.

But that wasn’t the only change that came after Shouta walked across that stage and earned his high school diploma.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t make this offer during your school days, but I didn’t want to overstep,” Nighteye-sensei said as she laid the adoption papers out in front of him, “You’re more than free to refuse, but I and my boys already see you as family. And we’d love to make it official.”

Shouta does not cry when Nighteye-sensei (Mom) adopts him. He doesn’t cry when she pulls him into a hug, or when they meet up with her (their) family to celebrate. He doesn’t cry when he goes out with his friends the next day and tells them the news.

If Hizashi, Oboro, Nemuri, Tensei, Tenko, or Keigo say otherwise years down the line, Shouta calls them out as the liars they are and scoffs at their illogical attempts at humiliating him.

*****

“So,” says Nedzu once All Might’s left the campus, “How do you feel about UA’s newest hire?”

“Nervous,” Mirai answered simply, “He means well, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t in over his head. We’ll just have to wait and see if our conversation changed anything.”

“If he truly comes clean to Midoriya-san about what he and her son have been up to, I’d imagine it’d change a bit. The same if you can help Midoriya-kun reach One for All’s full potential sooner.”

“We’ll see.” She took a sip of tea and hummed. “How are the added defenses at the USJ coming along?”

“Very well. It helps that we know Tenko-kun will be fighting for our side instead of All for One’s. And that he won’t have access to Kurogiri. I wouldn’t completely bet against a warper being utilized, but it won’t be nearly as effective without Shirakumo’s Cloud Manipulation as a base. We also have the joy of wondering if there will even be an attack at all with All Might’s teaching position being snagged by Yagi Toshinori.”

“The future’s too influx for me to use Foresight. If I do, I’ll shackle us to one future and we’ll have a near-impossible time changing it with that many variables at play.”

“Don’t force yourself, Mirai.” Nedzu poured himself another cup. “Even if we’re ready for All for One’s attack, we can’t seem too prepared. You’re the ace up our sleeve that I’d like to keep secret a little while longer. And if we could survive your ‘canon’ story with absolutely no prep and an exhausted Symbol of Peace, then I’m sure we can survive this one with an extra teacher on sight, new defensive measures, and All Might ready to go.”

She raised her cup in cheers. “To the most stressful school year yet?”

“To the most stressful school year yet.”

*****

For all that the future could change, some things are meant to be.

Aizawa Shouta coming to teach at UA at the insistence of his friends is one of those things.

Hizashi’s taken over Mom’s position as English teacher now that Mom’s the vice-principal, Nemuri is finally using the art degree she insisted on getting on a dare, and Oboro is teaming up with Power Loader to forcibly take over the science department. Tensei’s the odd one out with his position at Idaten, but Shouta rationalizes that he’s got enough sidekicks and interns to open a school of his own.

Shouta tries to channel how Mom was to him when he was in school: strict and full of high expectations, but caring and more than willing to go to bat for the brats when they need it. He tolerates zero bullying or discrimination in his classroom, as his class of first-years soon learns after he expels five of them for continuously harassing their two classmates with full-body mutant quirks. The looks of surprised gratitude from Baba Shou and Hirayama Yoko fuel him through the expelled students’ unsuccessful lawsuits, and the little thank-you card they both sign gives him the strength he needs to take the stand and outline to the judge how none of the five children are fit to be heroes, let alone attend UA.

He doesn’t get to teach any of his siblings (Keigo went to Ketsubutsu, Tenko started just as his first batch of students hit their third year, and Himiko’s on the medical track, so her homeroom teacher is a healing hero by the name of Maximón), but he will hopefully teach his son.

He had found Hitoshi wandering the streets with a muzzle on his face, and he and Hizashi had fallen in an instant. Following in his mother’s footsteps, he had claimed the boy as theirs and introduced him to the extended family who climbed their way into Hitoshi’s heart using the power of love and therapy. Beyond Mom giving him grief about making her a grandmother at thirty-two, it was smooth sailing.

Now, if Hitoshi could just pass the entrance exam and Shouta’s bribes to Mom, Nedzu, Hizashi, Nemuri, and Oboro would stick, then he’d get to have his son in his homeroom class.

So focused is Shouta on his contingency plans in case Hitoshi gets bumped to gen-ed, he completely misses the introduction of the new foundational heroics teacher. Hizashi gives him a quick peck on the cheek before making his way down to the auditorium, and the stick of a man awkwardly takes the seat his husband vacated.

“So, ugh. Stressful day, isn’t it?” Oh no, the stickman is trying to make small talk. Shouta doesn’t do small talk.

“Eh.”

“How does the scoring thing work, exactly? I know there are rescue points, team-up points, and possible deductions for endangering your fellow participants, but I can’t remember what gives what. Guess it’s a good thing I’m only observing rather than judging.”

“I agree that it’s more logical to award points based on multiple factors rather than pure damage done to the robots. It helps some more underground-focused students, rescue-focused students, and strategy-focused students shine where they would slip through the cracks otherwise.” Was that enough? Would the stickman leave him alone now that Shouta’s acknowledged him?

“Oh, I completely agree. It takes hard work to work around your quirk and give yourself the best advantage. That kind of dedication should be acknowledged and rewarded.”

As the stickman continued to babble on, Shouta recognized that he could be the last vote he needed to get Hitoshi in his class. While stickman couldn’t judge who would get in, he would have a say of who went in which class. And he at least seemed underground-friendly. If Shouta presented the argument of Hitoshi needing an underground mentor rather than Vlad, a spotlight one….

“What’s your quirk?” Shouta asked absentmindedly.

“Oh. I’m a-- I’m actually quirkless.”

f*ck. Yes. He would definitely support Hitoshi’s class placement.

“Really? Are you a hero like my colleague Athena, or are you just knowledgeable about heroics?”

“I’m a strategy hero that works under All Might,” Stickman explained, “But you said there’s another quirkless hero?”

Shouta nodded. “Athena’s an underground hero like me. She would love to meet you…”

Despite Shouta’s hatred of small talk, he grinned and bore it for the sake of buttering up Stickman. Yagi-san, Stickman’s apparent name, was fascinated by Athena and the IUCA, and it was all too easy to lead the conversation to how he keeps an especially close eye on students who might suit the underground, and how there was this one student, Shinsou Hitoshi, who would thrive under his teachings, but he had to wait until he passed the entrance exam to see if he would enter the hero course. And even then, he had to wait and see if a majority of the teachers agreed to sort Shinsou into his class.

Sure enough, Yagi promised his vote when the time came, and Shouta had to fight down a feral grin once he was guaranteed his son’s position.

When Hizashi yelled for the students to start, Shouta kept his eyes peeled for promising underground students. Hitoshi, of course, was killing it. But a large boy who could grow extra appendages at will, a bird-headed student who used a living shadow to fight, a tailed boy who was using nothing but amazing martial arts skills to take down the robots, a golem-like child who was commanding an army of birds, and a boy who could literally become one with the shadows were also on his radar.

“Hey, Nedzu, is there an applicant with a tech-manipulating quirk? Because either this camera is shorting, or the robots here are going berserk.” Shouta abandoned the monitor where a boy with a copying quirk similar to Yoshino-san’s was fighting a two-pointer and drew his attention to where Oboro was watching.

“That would be Hagakure-chan! She’s utilizing her light manipulating quirk to mess with the robots’ sensors!”

Sure enough, six three-pointers gathered in a circle and fired. But instead of passing through thin air as he expected them to, something invisible in the middle of the circle redirected the shots right back at them. All six went down, and the still invisible student ran off-camera in search of more points.

Hagakure immediately went right up to the top of his class list, right under Hitoshi. He was going to make her the best damn underground heroine since Mom herself.

The exam went on, and Nedzu released the zero-pointers. The applicants retreated, as expected, and Shouta was happy to note that Hitoshi grabbed an electric user who wasn’t completely responding to the large threat. After he jotted down the kid’s testing number to make sure they got checked out by Recovery Girl or Maximón, he had just enough time to look up at the screens and see examine #7914 smash the zero-pointer to oblivion.

And then gravity set in.

“Oboro, get out there now.” Mom screamed at his friend. Shouta threw his capture scarf after him, knowing that the extra reach could make or break whether this kid lived or died. Oboro didn’t even hesitate as he flew towards the testing field, but Shouta had no idea to know if he’d make it or not.

When a resounding ‘slap’ came from the video feed showing #7914, Shouta was almost afraid to look as he turned back to the feed and saw that examine #3572 had slapped #7914 across the face and was hovering him a mere four inches off the ground. She held them in place for a bit before releasing the boy and the machine scrap she was on and promptly vomiting over the boy’s shoes.

“She’s in,” Mom said quietly as Oboro appeared on screen and started checking both children for injuries. “She saved a life and us a major lawsuit. I won’t hear otherwise.”

That, it seemed, opened the floodgates as the rest of the staff made note of who they thought deserved to get in. The coming days were filled with reviewing thousands of applications for the four courses offered at UA. Those that failed the written exams were the first weeded out, followed by those that failed their individual course exams. But that still left hundreds of potential students to be considered and either admitted or rejected. After Power Loader verified the support students, Nedzu and Kawamoto picked the business classes, and gen-ed kids were organized and the possible course-swappers flagged, the teachers met to discuss their hero students.

Right off the bat, Mom brought forth the file on Midoriya Izuku, the child who took out the zero-pointer and cost them all a few years off of their lives. A ninety-seven on the written exam, fourteen villain points, sixty rescue points, and twenty-two collaboration points, putting him solidly at fourth place in the exams, right under Kendou Itsuka, Kirishima Eijirou, and Ururaka Ochako.

“I know what you’re all thinking, and I’ve already met with Midoriya and his mother,” Mom began, cutting off any protests before they could begin, “Midoriya Izuku was completely quirkless before the day of the entrance exam. His quirk is a stockpile mutation that stores energy. We do not yet know all the possible ways this energy could manifest, but if we examine other stockpiling quirks, we could potentially expect anything from flight, to energy fields, to pure energy blasts, to just your garden variety super strength. Aizawa, I want him in your class so there is a way for Midoriya to safely disengage his quirk.”

Shouta grumbled, but nodded, quietly jotting down ‘Midoriya Izuku’ under the column ‘Future Problem Children Who Will Need Therapy.’

“Vlad, you will have Rin Hiryuu, the exchange student from China. As the only teacher on staff fluent in Mandarin, we trust you with the care of the boy,” Nedzu laid out. “And all teachers should note that Kaminari Denki is dyslexic and has ADHD, Tsunotori and Rin are not yet fluent in Japanese, Ashido Mina also has ADHD, Shouji and Jirou have problems with loud noises due to their quirks, Kouda prefers to communicate using sign language, Iida and Asui are on the autism spectrum, and Midoriya speaks with a stutter. Please be understanding with them and communicate with them about their specific needs, be it extra time to hand in assignments, alternate ways to communicate, allowing them different project options rather than oral reports or exams, etcetera.”

“And with that out of the way,” Mom said, “Let’s go ahead and pick classes.”

After picking Hitoshi and Hagakure (he was vibrating with excitement about all the underground and investigating lessons he could have), Shouta went for the disabled kids with a vengeance. He knew what it was like to doubt yourself and have others doubt your ability to become a hero. And even if it wasn’t for the same reasons as these kids, he knew he could help them find ways to work with their personal obstacles and shine. Even if that meant he was adding a lot of names to the ‘Future Problem Children Who Will Need Therapy’ list.

Maybe he could enlist Hizashi to help him run some JSL classes? That might help Kouda feel more comfortable, and give Midoriya, Iida, and Asui options if they had a nonverbal day. It would also help Shouji and Jirou with their sound problems.

“Either way,” Shouta thought as he arm-wrestled Vlad over who got that Monama kid in their class, “It’s going to be an interesting year.”

Chapter 3: Madam Nighteye, the Meme Lord

Chapter Text

Mirai doesn’t know what possesses her to say it.

The mountain warehouse is nothing but rubble in the making, and Evergreen is shouting in her earpiece about backup they both know will come too late. Not even twenty yards away, Toshinori is squaring his shoulders and readying himself for the first blow. All for One is slowly approaching, a stupid, smug smile stretching across his face. And all Mirai can do is stand there frozen as she mentally cusses herself out for letting herself become complacent.

This confrontation isn’t supposed to happen for another four years, at least. But it looks like the nearly three decades in this new life haven’t taught her a thing, because Mirai is still blinded by this divergence from canon. Despite everything-- inviting Toshinori onto the Youkai Task Force, finding and shutting down resource after resource, connecting the Commission to All for One, stealing Tenko away from his clutches --Mirai still foolishly believed that this fight, this story-defining battle, would remain on schedule.

Regardless, Mirai doesn’t know the outcome of this fight, and she isn’t sure she wants to. Will Toshinori come out on top? Have they made themselves big enough nuisances to throw All for One off his game? Has All for One had enough time to create the perfect Molotov co*cktail of quirks to combat One for All? Or is Toshinori walking into this fight unprepared? Is she about to see the man she loves get gutted like a fish and lose a stomach, a lung, and years off his life? Or worse? How much are those four extra years of experience and preparation going to count in this fight?

It’s somewhere between all of this contemplation swirling in her head that she gets the idea. For some reason, the rapid thought of ‘The first blow is the second-most important, right after the last,’ connects to, ‘I need to distract All for One,’ bounces to, ‘It needs to be so ridiculous that Toshi isn’t distracted by me instead,’ gets its wires crossed with, ‘Wasn’t All for One a Millennial or Gen-Z kid?’

So before Mirai can think for more than a second, she’s dutifully ignoring Evergreen, dropping the stamps and the blade clutched in her hands, cupping her mouth, and shouting across the battlefield.

“All for One! Damn, you’re pretty powerful. I bet you’d make Shaggy use 1% of his full strength.”

All for One is caught off guard and stumbles a bit at her words, his face contorting into one of confusion.

Toshi, thankfully, is one, a professional, and two, deathly afraid of disappointing Gran Torino, and so takes the opening All for One has given. The punch connects, and so do the others. All for One takes it and is pushed back before glaring off in Mirai’s general direction and teleporting away with a ‘pop’.

“Nighteye, Nighteye! Talk to me!”

Mirai brings a finger to her ear and clicks the earpiece. “I’m here.”

“What’s happening? Are you hurt? Is All Might still standing?” Evergreen urges.

“I’m fine, we’re both fine. All for One… All for One retreated.”

“What, why?” The confused relief is clear in her mentor’s tone.

“I think,” says Toshi, and Mirai can see him talking into his own earpiece across the way, “That he was surprised.”

“Did he not expect to be found so soon?”

“No, that’s not it. He was surprised by something Mirai said.”

“What did she say?”

“I complimented him, sir,” Mirai answered slowly, “I told him he was… powerful enough to take on a fictional character from the pre-quirk era.”

There’s dead silence on the line before Evergreen simply says, “Huh. That’s something to add to the file.”

*****

Her friends, because every last one of them is a menace, find it hilarious.

“Do you have a second quirk or something?” Void Tenri (it’s Girls’ Night, so it’s Tenri) asks, her whiskey sour turning one way a little precariously, “One that makes you catnip for ancient quirk holders?”

“It’s not even ancient quirk holders, it’s literally just OfA and AfO,” says Mana-nee, “But there must be something in the water, or the quirk factor, I guess, because now she’s got both sides falling for her.”

“That’s not it,” says Mirai, and scowls into her gin and tonic, “That’s not it at all.”

“Are you sure? Because one bizarre compliment from you is all it took for the supervillain to get thrown off his rhythm,” Nariko teases.

“Emphasis on bizarre,” Chieko adds, “Seriously, who compliments someone on their power level? Let alone in the middle of a fight?”

“It was just the first thing I thought of.”

“Well, it must have worked because I don’t think I’ve seen a man stumble like that in years.”

“Do you think All for One has a praise kink or something?”

Laughter rings throughout the barroom and Mirai knocks back the rest of her drink. As she raises her hand for a refill, she can’t help but wonder what the others would say if she explained that All for One hadn’t fallen in love with her, she had just about damn near killed him with cringe.

*****

They stumble upon All for One again, and they’re somehow even less prepared than last time because now Toshi isn’t even there to help.

Mirai can see Stormborn’s brewing clouds and lightning strikes overhead, and the static cutting in and out of her earpiece is trying to convey some important intel of some kind, but overall, Mirai just feels trapped in some kind of horror game. All for One split her, Athena, and Stormborn up earlier, and the dark warehouse (seriously, what is it with supervillains and warehouses?), growing storm, and static audio really isn’t filling her with confidence.

“Hello there.”

Mirai throws a stamp on instinct and screams. “Jesus, f*cking-- “

All for One chuckles. “Sorry, were you not expecting--”

“Did you just steal that from Obi-Wan?”

“....”

“....”

“....what?”

“Sorry, have you never seen the prequels? It’s a-- it’s a bit of a meme, too, I guess? I’m actually surprised that you’ve never heard it because I swear it’s like, one of the most iconic and widespread memes in the Star Wars fandom. And I get that the prequels aren’t everybody’s cup of tea, but it’s better than f*cking Rise of Skywalker, I can promise you that.” What the f*ck is coming out of my mouth right now? “Sorry, I just-- can we start over now?”

All for One cleared his throat. “Hello, there--”

“General Kenobi. See, now it’s in my head and I can’t not say it.”

"How do you even know that?" All for One grumbled, "I thought I destroyed all the copies of those blasted movies."

"You mean you're the reason I couldn't have a proper Star Wars marathon until Nedzu worked his magic?”

“You have copies of the prequels?”

Mirai has been spending way too much time with her gremlin friends, because the next thing out of her mouth is, “Yousa's right. Mesa watches the prequel movies whenever mesa can.”

All for One just stared at her hopelessly. “No. No. I already lived through Yoichi using that f*cking Jar-Jar talk to annoy me for a month, I am not taking it from the likes of you.”

“Yousa is right. Yousa won’t be hearing it for long.”

All for One grinned again. “At least you know your place--”

“Because yousa es f*cked.”

And then, before he could stop her, she dashed away from All for One just in time for Stormborn’s lightning to smash through the skylight above and strike him dead on.

*****

“So let me get this straight,” Evergreen says painfully, rubbing his head like he’s trying to prevent a migraine from building behind his eyes, “You used some funny mom-baby-talk to stall All for One?”

“Yes.”

“In the attempt to let Stormborn get a hit on him with her lightning?”

“Yeah.”

“And it worked?” he asked with all the pain of a man who’s been consistently buying new high-tech trash cans to keep out the raccoons only for the sneaky bastards to keep tipping them over and eating his stale leftovers anyway.

Mirai, the sneaky bastard raccoon in question, nodded, “Yep.”

“How?”

“How much do you want to know about the meme and fandom culture of the pre-quirk era?”

Evergreen gave her a look. She raised an eyebrow back in challenge. He sighed.

“Get out of my office. And don’t try something this stupid again.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

*****

“What are you doing, mama?” asked Himiko.

“Something your Grandpa Evergreen would think is stupid.”

“Bad word!”

Mirai sighed and pulled out a 100¥ coin, giving it to the toddler for the bad word jar. She took it gladly and pattered over to the jar, dropping the coin through the top with a small clink.

Mirai returned to her paper, trying to remember the next verse of the song.

For as long as she’s been in this not-so-new world, Mirai’s first and last defense has always been music. It’s what kept her sane during her switch across universes, it’s what helped her mourn the old world and all that she’s lost, and it’s what’s helped her connect with her family in this one. Lullabies and ballads, jingles and melodies, arias and pure, simple music: it’s been the biggest boon to keeping her settled in the here and now for as long as she can remember.

And now, she’s trying to turn it into a weapon.

Mirai is a lot of things, but one thing she isn’t is an idiot. She’s not an untouchable powerhouse like her husband is or like Midoriya will be in the future. She knows that she can’t go out and kill All for One in his sleep like she desperately wants to. She can’t put him in the dirt and save her family from his unfortunate attention, but she’s got her music, and she’s got her mind, and she’s got amazing friends who like to encourage her feral gremlin side whenever it makes its appearance.

Which is exactly why she calls her best friend the second she thinks she’s got the song lyrics written out and her stupid, stupid idea wriggling around in her brain.

Because damn it, All for One has it out for her, her husband, and her children. And if she can’t be a little petty and make his life as miserable as possible, then what is even the point?

“Nedzu, do you think you can help me with something? I’m in need of your hacking skills.”

She explained her plan to her best friend and joined in when he broke out the villainous laughter.

Nedzu may be a bad influence on her.

*****

The Youkai Task Force meets a week later, and a cell phone miraculously appears in the middle of the table.

“Did someone have a quirk accident?” asks Void, co*cking her head to the side and staring at the phone in question.

“Isn’t this level supposed to be quirk-proof?” Nightlight counters, scooting a little bit away from the cell phone.

It starts ringing.

Athena checks the name of the caller and then squints at it. “It says it’s ‘The Ultimate Ruler of the World.’ What kind of prepubescent bullcrap is that name?”

She answers it.

“WHERE IS THAT INSUFFERABLE DRACENA PLANT?”

“Hold on a second,” Athena looks up, “Boss, I think it’s for you.”

Evergreen takes the phone. “Hello?”

“NOT YOU, THE FEMALE ONE!”

“Nightlight, I think he means you.”

“Yello?”

“NOT YOU, THE ONE WITH THE GLASSES!”

Mirai takes the phone. “Hello?”

“FINALLY! YOU.”

“Me,” Mirai agrees.

“YES, YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE PUBIC HAIR. DID YOU f*ckING RICKROLL ME?”

“Oh, it worked? Sweet.”

“Who is it?” Void asks.

“All for One, get a call tracker,” Mirai mouths before returning to the cell phone. The others fall out of their chairs rushing to get Mana and Nedzu the equipment they need to track the call.

“HOW DID YOU EVEN GET A COPY OF THAT SONG? I ERADICATED ALL MENTIONS OF RICK ASTLEY CENTURIES AGO.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

“YOU KNOW VINES?!”

“I know a lot of things,” said Mirai, watching as her sister scrambled to get her equipment set up.

“WELL, IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU, YOU’D STOP THIS SONG FROM LOOPING FOR THE FIVE-HUNDRETH TIME THIS WEEK. OR ELSE.”

Mirai scowled at the ‘call ended’ screen. “He hung up. Rude. And two seconds away from getting a viable signal, too.”

“You’re suicidal. Holy sh*t, my best friend’s got a death wish,” Void whimpered.

Mirai, however, had lost her last f*ck when she heard the most powerful supervillain’s voice crack on ‘vines.’ She turned to Nedzu. “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Think we can follow All for One’s request and shake up the song selection a bit? I’ve got a few… ideas.”

Nedzu cackled. Mirai cackled back. All the other heroes in the room took a few long steps away from the deranged duo.

Nedzu was definitely a bad influence.

*****

“Hello?”

“BABY SHARK IS NOT f*ckING BETTER!”

*****

“You’re currently speaking to--”

“AND Mii MUSIC WITHOUT SPACES IS EVEN WORSE!”

*****

All things considered, Mirai should have prepared for All for One’s retaliation. In her defense, though, she didn’t expect it to be this petty.

“Could you please repeat that?” she asked calmly. Calmly.

“We’re out of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, ma’am,” said the haggled store clerk.

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“All of it? Chunky Monkey, Chubby Hubby, Half-Baked, all of it?”

“Yes.”

“I really, really don’t want to sound like an unreasonable soccer mom who asks for your manager, but could you please check in the back?”

“I’ll check,” they say, slipping away and walking towards the refrigerated part of the store.

Mirai breathes in, and lets it out, trying to push her frustration out of her mind. She is a calm ocean, unbothered by the meaningless storm. She is too grand to be bothered by such an inconsequential--

“We have one flavor left!”

Oh, thank God.

“That’s great, I’ll take it!”

The worker passed over the pint, and Mirai couldn’t help but scowl at it.

“Is there a problem?” the worker asked nervously.

“No, no, it’s, it’s fine,” Mirai waved off, “I’ll be on my way, thank you.”

She checked out and headed home, quick to unload the groceries and pack the sole pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer for her break tomorrow. She had a bone to pick with All for One.

*****

“f*cking pistachio?” Mirai screeched into the receiver angrily, shoving a spoonful in her mouth, “Of all the Ben & Jerry flavors you could have left me, you picked f*cking pistachio?”

“DOESN’T FEEL SO GOOD TO BE ON THE RECEIVING END OF THINGS, HUH?”

“If it weren’t for the laws of these lands, I would have slaughtered you long ago.”

“SURE. GOOD LUCK WITH THAT.”

Mirai let loose a screech into the phone that may have been words at one point but now sounded like an angry swan hunting teenagers for sport.

“YOU KNOW, I’D BE WILLING TO LET YOU HAVE YOUR PRECIOUS ICE CREAM BACK IF YOU STOP THIS INCESSANT MUSIC.”

“Get f*cked.” Mirai hung up and slammed the phone on the table, dutifully ignoring Mana’s glare. She hadn’t stayed on long enough for her to zero in on a location.

“This means war,” Mirai growled, bitterly taking another bite of the pistachio ice cream. “Does anybody know where I can find an ouija board?”

*****

“Wife.”

“Husband.”

“When you said you wanted to try something new in the bedroom, this was not what I had pictured.”

Mirai looked up from where she was sitting on the floor in front of the ouija board, carefully setting the seven planchettes across the top. “Toshi, darling, love of my life, this is war. And the first rule of warfare is to know thy enemy. And so I must convene with the person who knows my enemy the best.”

“Ghosts don’t exist, my love.”

“By and large, I guess that would be true, but there are some special circ*mstances. Especially seeing how all of the past One for All users have their souls stuck in the quirk.”

“...what?”

“That’s why I asked you here.”

“WHAT?”

“Your successor will be able to talk with them. Nana and them are going to adore each other. And the First and the Ninth are essentially the same person but separated by generations. It’s great and adorable and I can’t wait to see it.”

“Okay,” says Toshinori, plopping down next to her, “Is there a certain way we’re supposed to do this, or…”

“I don’t know, ugh… oh great spirits living inside my husband’s quirk, um, get your lazy asses up,” Mirai said, pounding her hand against Toshinori’s chest, “You haven’t paid rent in years, which, bit of an asshole move, guys. But all will be forgiven if you help me f*ck with All for One. I need the First’s insight the most, but all of you are welcome to chip in if you can.”

Without much preamble, one of the planchettes across from the couple moved.

“Oh sweet, it’s working,” said Mirai, “Are you the First Holder of One for All?”

YES

“Awesome. Were you and your brother ever involved with fandom and fan culture when you were younger?”

YES

“Was your brother a shipper?”

YES

“What were some of his OTPs and NoTPs?”

All six of the previously unmoved planchettes hastily slid over to NO, ramming into each other to express their displeasure with the question.

“Uh…” Toshi asked, “What’s with that?”

Y-O-Y-O W-O-N-’-T S-T-O-P T-A-L-K-I-N-G A-B-O-U-T F-A-N-D-O-M-S. M-I-R-A-I I-S G-I-V-I-N-G H-I-M I-D-E-A-S.

“And that would be?”

1

“And you are?”

2

“I’m sure it’s fine. Mirai just wants some inspiration. Right, Mirai?”

Mirai, however, was happily ‘speaking’ with the first planchette. “I should’ve f*cking known that bastard was a Destiel shipper. He’s exactly the type. What’s next, Reylo? Jonerys? Was he Team Edward?”

YES

“To which one?”

A-L-L

“Holy sh*t,” Mirai said, wheezing out a laugh, “Holy sh*t, I’m gonna’ f*cking-- holy sh*t. What else was the man into?”

N-A-R-U-T-O

“No…”

V-O-L-T-R-O-N

“No!”

S-H-E-R-L-O-C-K

“NO! Why am I not surprised that the granddaddy of all villains was in some of the most toxic, unhinged fandoms? Jesus. You have given me so much to work with, First, thank you so much for your insight.”

W-E-L-C-O-M-E

Toshinori just continues to stare at his wife as she cackles like a mad woman.

He might have to keep an eye on how much time she spends with Nedzu.

*****

Mirai files the costume change and gets the finished product from Mana just in time for her next romp through All for One’s warehouse of the day. He doesn’t show up, to both her relief and disappointment, but she is able to hack into all of his desktops and change the background to an old social media post she’d been able to find. One with a certain angel and a certain pie-lover with the captions ‘Te amo’ and ‘Y yo a ti, Cas’ respectively.

She wears the new hero costume only when she’s with the task force and only when there’s a relatively highish chance of running into the man himself. No one comments on it beyond a few side-eyes, but eventually, her commitment pays off.

She’s with Gran Torino this time when it happens. All for One is monologuing to them about ‘sending a message’ and ‘completing his mission’ and so on and so forth, and Mirai can pinpoint the exact moment he realizes what, exactly, she’s wearing.

All for One is pale, tired, and just looks so done as he points at her get up and says, “Seriously?”

Mirai shrugs, adjusting her top hat and straightening out her bowtie. “I thought it was about time I changed up my style.”

“This ain’t it, chief.”

“Really? I think green is so my color.”

All for One sighs. “Just… if I let you go, will you promise to never wear this again?”

Mirai looks down at her Onceler getup, and then smirks back at All for One, “But villain-san! How Ba-aa-aa-aad Can This Be?”

All for One blanches and grabs her by the scruff of her neck and Torino by the ankle. “Nope.”

And with that, he swings her around like a discus and throws them both out an open window. Mirai cackles even after Torino grabs her and hovers them down to the ground.

*****

Not all of Mirai’s little annoyances are physical. She may have recently sacrificed her sanity to the God of Pettiness, but she’s still not an idiot. She doesn’t have the power to back up any face-to-face confrontation, but she can still drive All for One crazy in other ways.

And for that, she turns to the hellscape that gave her so much amo in the first place: the internet.

Her first post is innocent enough. Anonymous, as all internet trolling should be, but fairly innocent. It is simply an internet article ranking all of the adaptations of Sherlock Holmes over the centuries.

And BBC’s Sherlock is ranked last.

The articles continue from there, all a little more specific and a little more personal as time goes on.

Queerbaiting vs. Representation, a Series of Introspectives on Pre-Quirk Media. Article #1, Supernatural vs. Good Omens.

A Reflection on Themes: Why George R. R. Martin Doomed Jonerys from the Start.

Toxic Men in Pre-Quirk Media, Featuring Edward Cullen and Kylo Ren.

Queerbaiting vs. Representation, a Series of Introspectives on Pre-Quirk Media. Article #2, Voltron: Legendary Defender vs. She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

Lost in Translation: How Kishimoto Failed the Female Characters of Naruto.

Mirai honestly has a blast with the articles. It’s always fun to revisit media from her past life, or finally have an excuse to binge stuff she missed the first time around. Others seem to be enjoying it too, if the comments and discussions her work creates are anything to go by. It seems that being a member of the “original audience” gives her a unique perspective that no one else has been able to fully bring to the table before.

Plus, the incesscant comments from TheOriginalFan are like chicken soup for her little trolling soul.

The articles All for One publishes in response? Not so much.

“Bad writing? Oh I’ll show him bad writing,” Mirai grumbles, exiting out of ‘Why the Writers Dropped the Ball on Miraculous Ladybug’ and opening a new word doc. “Just you wait, Shigaraki. I am coming for your precious Snily if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Ughhhhh, Shouta?” Hizashi asks, blinking aimlessly at his boyfriend’s mom, “What’s up with Mama Nightey?”

“She’s just caught up in a villain investigation. Leave her be,” Shouta says, taking a long, slow sip out of his coffee mug, “Nothing can get her out this state once she gets going like this.”

“Nothing?” Hizashi asks, glancing towards Shouta’s bedroom door.

“Nothing.” Shouta smirks and jerks his head to the side. “So if you want to, I don’t know, play me a few of those punk rock remixes you’ve been working on, nobody’ll tell us to turn down the music for at least another forty-five minutes when Dad gets home with the kids.”

“Unless I finished up at UA early!” comes a voice at their feet, and Shouta and Hizashi jump away from each other.

“Unless Nedzu-san comes home early,” Shouta concedes with a groan.

“Now, I must insist that before you engage in any activity such as what you two have been suggesting towards, you must review the romantic and sexual safety slideshow with me!”

“WH--AT?!” Hizashi cries, quirk activating in surprise halfway through.

“House rule! All family members must review it at least twenty-four hours before they engage in coitus with a new partner for the very first time. Don’t worry, it’s only about forty-five minutes long.”

“I bet Mom and Dad didn’t have to sit through this sh*t,” Shouta grumbles, already resigned to his fate.

Nedzu, however, just gave a menacing laugh and let a sad*stic glint show in his eye. “Oh my naïve nephew. Who do you think I made the slideshow for in the first place?”

*****

Mirai already knows that All for One’s a Marvel fan; Project Insight wouldn’t have been named such, otherwise. So, when she inevitably runs into the man again (and since when did that become inevitable? Seriously, when did Mirai get bumped up above All Might on All for One’s list of priorities?), she’s ready.

It’s another abandoned warehouse in a different mountain range. Toshinori isn’t here this time, but Athena is, and Mirai’s already agreed to play distraction as she sets up her sniper rifle and waits for the perfect shot.

Mirai’s stamps are flying and packing more punches than usual. Mana had taken to upgrading them after she began to worry about her little sister’s brush with the Demon King of the Underground, and now they can do everything from taze people, to explode, to encase them in glue so strong Mirai wonders if All for One’s suit will ever be wearable after this.

She puts up a valiant effort, but again, she’s no All Might or Deku. All for One gets a good hit in eventually and sends her flying back into a concrete wall, and yep, she’s definitely got a few broken ribs from that hit.

She’s seeing stars and starting to cough up blood as All for One approaches.

“Finally,” he chuckles as he approaches, “You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long, Madam Nighteye. Are you ready to meet your end?”

“Hey,” she says softly, trying to make sure she doesn’t choke on her own blood, “Hey, Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good.”

And All for One--

All for One stops.

And starts to--

*****

“Can you let this go already?”

“Can I-- f*cking no. No, I am not going to let this go. I am never letting this go,” says Athena.

They’re back at the IUCA med wing, and Mirai’s just woken up from a Meditation-induced healing coma. The doctor told her that she’s got to be up for the next few hours for observation before she puts Mirai back under to heal the rest of her previously-broken ribs. Evergreen, Thunderclap, and Gran Torino came down to get their reports about the incident, and Toshinori is rubbing her hand gently as Athena goes through every gruesome detail.

“And after Mirai gets punched through a concrete wall and doesn’t get back up, All for One approaches her and she says something to him. Something that makes All for One start crying like a little bitch.”

The Evergreen-Thunderclap-Torino trifecta turns to her. They blink as Mirai’s face heats up into an embarrassed blush, and she tries to cover it with the hand that her husband isn’t gripping like a lifeline.

“What did you say?”

“It was just-- it was just another stupid movie reference. It was supposed to make him stumble on himself, slow him down. Not, not-- not whatever the hell happened.”

“By that point, I was desperate to get Mirai out of there, so I stopped waiting for a shot that would kill him dead, and just went for it,” Athena continues, “I delivered one shot to the shoulder and another through the chest before he popped out of there with some teleportation quirk. Doubt he’s dead, but it’ll at least slow him down for a week or so.”

Evergreen pinched the bridge of his nose. Mirai noticed that the get-well-soon flowers sitting in the vase by her bed fixed their posture and quivered a bit, like a room full of anxious students watching their dreaded teacher walk through the door after they all flunked a pop quiz yesterday.

“Nighteye?”

“Yes?”

“Grounded.”

“Fair.”

And with that conversation over, the four of them vacated the room, leaving Mirai and Toshinori alone.

“Mirai,” he says shakily, speaking for the first time since she’s woken up, “Please. Please, never do something like that again.”

Mirai looks at him, and it takes a second to sink in that her strong, kind, always-smiling husband is crying.

“I can’t stand to see you fight him. I can’t stand to see you go toe-to-toe with someone that strong, always knowing how easily it could all go sour if you cross the wrong line. I know that you’re smart, and strong in your own way, but please, Mirai. And I know this makes me the biggest damn hypocrite for asking this of you, but please. Please stop. Please don’t make me attend your funeral. Please don’t make me a widower. Please don’t make me explain to the kids why their mother’s not coming home. Please.”

“Toshi,” she says, heart shattering, “Toshi, darling, look at me. It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here. I’m not dying on you now. And I am so sorry I’ve made you feel like this.”

Toshinori sniffles and wipes at his eyes. “Please, say you’ll stop.”

“I’ll stop, darling. I won’t get that up-close and personal with All for One again,” she says, and her husband sags in his seat, squeezing her hand even tighter. “I won’t fight him again, but…”

“But?”

“But I think I’m in a little too deep now.” She squeezes his hand just as tight, and sapphire eyes meet gold. “I’ve already got his attention, and I doubt that’s going to disappear even if I do. So I promise you, I will avoid him from here on out. I’ll stick to in-house deskwork and I’ll stop any and all field investigating. But if he comes after me, then I can’t promise anything. I’ll try to stick to just distractions, though, and leave the heavy hitting to you.”

“Just distractions?” he reaffirms.

“Just distractions.”

Toshinori breathed in and out. “This is probably as good a deal as I’m going to get, isn’t it? Fine. But be careful.”

“For you, love? Always.”

Toshinori kissed her then, a quick peck on the lips, before squeezing her hand one last time and letting Meditation move in and do her job. Mirai was out before she could say any more reassurances to the strongest man she knew.

*****

Mirai, as always, takes to the desk work with grace. Her paperwork is filed weeks ahead of schedule, her inbox is filled with thank you’s from other underground heroes for doing the same for them, and even the papers she agreed to grade for Nedzu are completed and piled, ready for him to take them back to class.

In other words, Mirai is bored out of her mind.

It’s on the twelfth day of her grounding that Toshi caves and agrees to make an exception on the “stay the f*ck away from AfO” promise.

Mirai makes a splash returning to her articles. It would be suspicious if she were to quit with no prior warning, especially after actual historians had begun taking notice of her work and reaching out to ask if they can cite her as an academic source. That had flattered Mirai beyond words, and with the promise to Toshinori to stop writing for the sake of pissing off All for One and rather to simply write for the sake of it, she had the green light to continue.

Especially after she receives a request from a researcher or other to dig into a certain movie from a certain era of the internet.

“Oh, ho, ho,” Mirai says, tickled pink and grinning like a fool, “This is going to be fun.”

Little did she know that this request and her subsequent review would be the true catalyst to All for One’s downfall.

*****

When the AfO cell rings again, the Youkai Task Force is ready.

They’ve long-since learned from their past mistakes, and Mana has her call-tracking equipment up and ready before they even answer this time. They all hold their breath and let the cell ring for three whole cycles before Evergreen picks it up and answers.

“Hello?”

“WHERE THE f*ck IS SASAKI MIRAI?”

“Let me grab her for you,” the man says, trying to remain calm.

He places the phone on the table and slides it over to Mirai. She looks Evergreen in the eye as he counts his fingers down from three. When his last finger goes down, she picks up the phone and says, “You wanted to talk to me, All for One?”

“YOU. YOU MISINFORMED COCONUT! YOU DON’T TRULY KNOW ANYTHING!”

“Hmmm,” Mirai hums, “Could you elaborate on that?”

“YOU ACT ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY, BUT I KNOW THE TRUTH, AS DO YOU! YOU ARE MORE CLUELESS THAN YOUR READERS! AND IF YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW THIS, THEN YOUR OPINIONS ON ALL PRE-QUIRK MEDIA IS INVALID!”

“And what don’t I know?”

“GONCHAROV!” All for One exclaims with no small amount of glee, “GONCHAROV ISN’T A REAL MOVIE!”

“Yes it is,” Mirai says without skipping a beat.

This makes All for One pause. “NO IT’S NOT,” he whines.

“Of course it is. I’ve seen it. I even have a copy of it at home.”

“NO YOU DON’T.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“BECAUSE IT’S NOT REAL?!”

“It’s very real,” Mirai responds calmly, “Even disregarding my copy, there are tons of ancient posts preserved in pre-quirk social media accounts that discuss the film. I cite many of them in my online article, ‘Goncharov: the History of the Greatest Mafia Movie of All Time.’”

“YOU AND ALL OF THOSE POSTS ARE LYING!”

Mirai co*cked an eyebrow and smirked right into the receiver. “Prove it.”

“.....what?”

“I said prove it, bitch. The movie was extremely niche, even back when it was first released. Prove every single first-person source that mentions the film is a lie. Prove that all of the GIFs, music scores, quotes, and movies posters that depict it are fake. If you want to throw wild accusations like that, then you better be ready to put your money where your mouth is and prove it.”

Right as Mirai finishes her piece, she places the phone on the table. “You all might want to cover your ears.”

All the other heroes in the room do as she says and slap their hands over their ears. Mirai, on the other hand, leans back and gets comfortable as All for One has a three-hour long tantrum about a movie she damn well knows doesn’t exist.

*****

Mana gets All for One’s location, and the Youkai Task Force is geared up and ready by that night.

Mirai is back in her normal gear, plus Mana’s extra gear. Everyone is decked out with extra armor, actually. Gifts from Mana and David Shield that should be able to take the full force of a rocket launcher each.

Toshinori’s, though, is the biggest change. He’s wearing metal armor for once, rather than his usual Kevlar, and Mirai knows that there is extra padding upon extra padding around his chest and torso.

“Nervous?” she asks her husband as she smooths back his hair in private.

“No,” he says, “But I don’t think that’s really worth much. You?”

“No. But that might just be worth even less.” She chuckles and pulls him into a hug. “Come back to me, alright?”

Toshi pulled her tight and held her like she was the most precious thing in the world. “I promise you I will. Stay safe out there.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a secret weapon all my own. End this here and now, Toshinori.”

“I will, I love you, I will.”

“I love you too.”

They held each other for a few more minutes before parting and pulling each other into a kiss. Finally, they separate for good and head out to face the fight of a lifetime.

*****

For all that everything’s gone to sh*t, the All Might vs. All for One clash is going better than expected.

All for One’s hideout had been, surprise surprise, another abandoned warehouse, this time a few miles away from a sleepy farming town out in the country. Evacuation had been swift, and once it was confirmed that not even a stray dog was left within fifty miles of the contact point, the task force had moved in.

The element of surprise had done them good, but the half-complete Noumu had definitely f*cked up their plans. Thank Nedzu, they weren’t anywhere near as dangerous as their canon iterations, but the sheer amount of them had been overwhelming initially.

Mirai had almost frozen when she saw Evergreen go down, but she pushed through it and took the opening he had given her to give the last Noumu the finishing blow. She had then hauled him back to where Meditation was set up with the EMTs.

“He’ll live,” she said, and Stormborn, Thunderclap, Void, and Athena all collapsed in relief at her words. Mirai, however, just turned to where Reprise was set, singing her heart out and channeling a teleportation-blocking quirk over the fight radius.

“If I screamed something into a megaphone real quick, will it disrupt your quirk?”

‘Go nuts,’ the heroine signed, still singing.

“Perfect.” Mirai opened up her case and pulled out the megaphone that she had asked Mana to make special. She turns it on, waits for it to calibrate, and then unleashes the trump card she’s kept up her sleeve for months.

“Hey, All for One,” she shouts into the megaphone and across the battlefield, “I like your shoelaces!”

The reaction is immediate. All for One’s smile is stripped from his face, and his confident strut across the man-made crater is halted as the generations-old megalomaniac trips.

“Holy sh*t. Okay, okay. What the f*ck? What the f*ck?” he says, clutching his heart, “That gave me legitimate psychic damage, time out, time out!”

Toshinori answers with a punch to the face. Then another. And another. And another.

“There are no timeouts,” All Might declares to the still-floundering villain, “Not for you.”

And then he jumps into the air, raises his fist up, and dives onto his mortal enemy. “Unites States of Smash!”

The resulting punch shakes the earth. Mirai loses her balance and falls to her knees, catching herself on the palm of her hands. Debris and wind whip around her, dirtying her goggles and blinding her.

Once the world stops moving under her feet, she reaches for her case and pulls out her glasses, swapping them with her hero version as others take in the scene.

“Is it over?” Void asks.

“Did All Might win?” Golden Sage calls.

Athena points out into the now extremely deep crater. “Look!”

Mirai shoves her glasses on and follows her friend’s finger. There, standing tall and proud, is Toshinori, All for One’s unmoving body lying at his feet. The man raises his head, finds her, and lifts a fist high in victory, his smile stretching wider than she’s ever seen it.

Mirai moves without thinking, rushing across the field to the edge of the crater. She leaps into the pit and slides down the wall and right into her husband’s waiting arms.

“We did it,” he whispers, clutching her close.

“We won,” she croaks back, hugging him just as fiercely.

They both break down then as it hits them. They’ve won; they’re safe; their children are safe. Never again will they have to worry about the demon that’s been plaguing the world for centuries.

“Mirai?”

“Toshi?”

“Why did All for One lose the fight the moment you complimented him?”

Mirai looked up at her husband’s confused face and all she can do is laugh.

*****

“Everybody, in your seats,” Shouta said as his class full of problem children finally settled down, “As mentioned earlier this week, our heroics class for today is going to be a little different. Today, we’re having guest speakers.”

“Are they going to expel us?” Ashido asks, her pink hand waving in the air.

“No. Despite the fact that they don’t have the power to do that, I know that they are both much too lenient to even threaten expulsion.”

All twenty of his students let out sighs of relief only to straighten back up as he continued. “Regardless, they are both extremely high-profile heroes. Do not embarrass yourselves, me, or UA. And with that,” Shouta turned towards the front door, “Come on in.”

“I,” came a familiar, booming voice, “AM COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL GUEST SPEAKER!”

“All Might?!”

Shouta starts a timer as the class goes wild, shouting above each other as Dad simply stands at the front of the room and poses. They start to settle down at the two-minute mark, and by the five-minute mark, they’re all back in their seats and eagerly asking Dad questions.

“What are you doing here, sir?” asks Yaoyorozu.

“I am a guest speaker for the day, young heroine! I am here at the request of your teachers and principal to impart some of my practical knowledge in the field of heroics.”

“I think that was clear, sir, but I think Yaomomo ment to ask what will you be talking about?” Asui adds.

“A variety of subjects, but primarily field readiness, situational awareness, and how to find and focus on important aspects of a fight.”

“But don’t we already know how to do that?” Kaminari asks, “We’ve been in fights before.”

“Be that as it may, everybody has space to improve. Now, any other questions?” Dad flashes his smile and looks over the students.

Iida is the only one to raise his hand. “Sir. Aizawa-sensei mentioned that there would be two guest speakers today. Where is the other? It is most unbecoming of a hero to be this late?”

“Who in the world says I was late?” Mom asks, making herself known and dropping from the vents above. She lands on her feet and falls into a proper bow. “Madam Nighteye, at your service.”

The class goes wild once more, and when they settle down again, Shouta stops the timer. “Eleven minutes. Terrible time, but I guess it’s better than last year.”

“Sir?”

Shouta gives all of his students an unimpressed look. “Tell me, what are All Might and Madam Nighteye working on with you?”

“How to focus in a fight?” Uraraka offers.

“And?”

“Field readiness?”

“And?”

“...situational awareness,” she finishes with a cringe.

“Situational awareness,” Shouta concludes, “How long has Madam Nighteye been in the vents? How many people even noticed her there in the first place?”

None of the students answered, all of them refusing to meet his gaze.

“Kaminari’s right, all of you have fought before. Almost none of you, however, have been in a confrontation with a real villain. Villains are not going to wait for you to notice they’re there before they attack. They will fight dirty, they will use their surroundings against you, and they will try to involve civilians if they can. If you aren’t aware of all of this and plan around it accordingly, then you have no right to call yourselves heroes. And for that matter, villains aren’t the only ones who can use those tricks. I will be assigning an essay due Friday about how you all can incorporate distractions and baits into your fighting style.”

“Like any real hero would pull something like that,” Bakugou snarked.

Dad chuckled. “On the contrary, young man, I won my hardest victory because of what many would consider a ‘cheap trick.’ I was fighting a villain even more powerful than myself, and losing badly.”

There was a bit of outcry and gasps of disbelief from the kids.

“I know that many would find that impossible, but remember, there will always be someone more powerful than you, and that is why it is important that you train your mind and not just your body. Regardless, I was losing horribly, but luckily, Madam Nighteye was nearby. She saw my sorry state and began the most absurd behavior. She shouted compliments at the villain. And as the flustered villain tried to regain himself, I delivered the winning blow.”

“All Might, sir, what fight was this?” Midoriya asked, “The closest call you’ve had in years was to Toxic Chainsaw. But Madam Nighteye didn’t do anything of the sort during that fight.”

“The fight wasn’t televised,” Mom explained, “We had to evacuate the area for the people’s safety, and afterwards, the victims and their families requested that the matter be kept private for safety reasons. We, of course, agreed to their wishes.”

“Change into your exercise clothes and meet at Gym Beta. We’ll be beginning your day’s training there.”

“Hai, sensei!” his students shouted, rushing out the door. Shouta waited a moment or two to ensure that Jirou and Shouji were out of earshot before squinting at his parents.

“Did you really compliment a villain into submission?” he asked Mom.

Both of them burst into peals of laughter.

“The strangest solution to defeating the strangest villain,” Mom agreed, “We’ll tell you about it later. For now, we shouldn’t keep your students waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shouta grumbled, “I’ll meet you there.”

Dad grabbed Mom’s hand and walked her to the door. “Mirai, dear. I like your shoelaces.”

For whatever reason, Mom laughed even harder, and had to lean on Dad to keep herself upright. Shouta just rolled his eyes at his parents and reminded himself to bring up this story when he, Hizashi, Nemuri, Tensei, and Oboro next went out for drinks.

Chapter 4: Star Wars AU - The Jedi and the Mandalorian, Part One

Chapter Text

Present:

Toshinori tries his best to comfort the youngling he has cradled in his lap, but he is largely useless beyond occasionally hushing the child and rubbing circles into the boy’s back.

“I want buir,” the child whimpers and Toshinori hugs him tight.

“I know, young one, I know. I’ll get you out, I swear.” He does not mention that he has no idea who this Buir is, or if they’re even alive. But it matters not to ensure that the child is comforted and reassured in this dark hour.

Toshinori had fallen into Garaki’s trap all too easily. The promise of intel on their new slave colony and the possibility of finding David had been too tempting, and now here he was, a prisoner on some outer-rim planet that wasn’t even on the Jedi’s star maps.

And even worse, he could feel his mental shields falling day after day. Doctor Garaki was one of the foulest beings in the universe, but he was a master at finding and exploiting weaknesses. Toshinori did not know why the Force-sensitive child had been thrown into his cell, but he knew that it wasn’t anything good.

If they forced the youngling to watch as he was tortured, or worse, forced Toshinori to watch while they tortured him, he knew he would break all too easily and who knows how many of his men would fall with the intel he leaked.

Which was why he had to escape before Garaki and his droids returned.

Toshinori leans against the cell wall, and breathes, spreading out his feelings with the Force. It’s hard to get exact placements with Garaki’s Force-dampening everything lining the cell, but he could feel just enough to know that there were currently two droids guarding his cell door.

There was something in the air, some feeling telling him that if he wanted to act, he had to do it now. And so, Toshinori shifted the youngling behind him and whispered to the boy, “Stay behind me, and don’t move until I tell you to.”

The youngling, thankfully, appeared to be well-versed in following instructions and stood straight and defensively opposite the door. Toshinori stepped as close to the thing as he dared and reached out with the Force.

The two droids were well-armored, but their processors were focused outwardly along the halls and towards the door. So when he subtly moved around a few mechanisms, forcing both of their guns to go off at point-blank range on each other, neither droid had a chance at sensing it and raising their defensive shields. With the droids taken out, mentally lifting a gun, shooting the locking mechanism on the door, and prying it open was nearly too easy.

Now came the hard part.

“Are you alright, young one? Can I carry you?” Toshinori asked the boy.

The boy thought for a moment before nodding his head. Toshinori scooped him up on his back and grabbed the droids’ guns. He was no marksman, and he would nearly kill to get his lightsaber back in his hands, but the guns would have to do. He stalked down the hallway, shooting cameras and motion sensors whenever he had the chance. While still weaker than normal, he felt the Force more strongly out in the corridors than in the cell, and he let it guide him through the maze of the base.

Left, left, straight, right, straight, straight, left, right, right, left, right, right, straight, stop!

Toshinori halted as soon as he could and looked to his side. There, at the corner of the junction, was a smaller door of what he assumed to be a storage closet. He didn’t know why the Force was screaming at him to enter that room, but with how unfamiliar the area was, Toshinori was more prone to following its suggestions than usual. Luckily, the door opened with no further codes required, and Toshinori was able to safely hunker down with the youngling as the Force told them to sit still and wait.

“Mr. Aruetii, sir? Where are we?”

“That’s a good question, young one. By the looks of it, we’re in a maintenance room of some kind.” Toshinori glanced around, noted the various inactive screens and hollo-projectors, and returned to the child. “I don’t know why, but it feels important that we be here.”

The boy nodded sagely, “Buir says it's important to follow your gut when it’s telling you to do something important.”

“This Buir sounds very wise.”

“She is. She also says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. But you’re a stranger, and you’re helping me, so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now.”

“Why don’t we introduce ourselves, so that way we won’t be strangers anymore?” Toshinori bowed his head. “I am Jedi Master Yagi Toshinori, General of the Republic. I was captured in my attempt to save Senator David Shield from Separatists forces.”

“I’m Tenko. Clan Badger, House Kast.” Tenko co*cked his head. “Aren’t Jetiise supposed to have laser swords? Buir says you can tell a good Jetii from a bad one by the color of the laser swords.”

“That’s mostly an old masters’ tale, but there is a kernel of truth to it. What do you think the different colors mean?”

“Buir says green and blue laser swords are common, and those are good Jetiise. Purple ones are rare because only super important Jetiise have them, but they’re still good. Gray and white ones are like buir, and they aren’t Jetiise, just someone who happens to own a laser sword. But red laser swords are evil. If I see a red laser sword, I’m supposed to run or hide.”

“That sounds like very wise advice,” Toshinori agreed, ignoring that little slip about white and gray lightsabers. He’s known many an unconventional knight to have blank blades, especially Shadows. If he was reading this right, then Tenko was likely the charge of this Jedi Knight Buir, who was possibly a Shadow under deep cover.

“What color is your laser sword?”

“I have a blue lightsaber, although I currently don’t have it with me. Darth Garaki stole it when he captured me.”

“I hope you get it back. But if you don’t, I know buir and my ba’voduse and my ba’buire would have some extra from the recent bounty.”

“I’m sure they will,” Toshirnori said. But before he could have time to wonder at the worrying terminology of ‘bounty,’ a grate from a vent made some extremely horrible sounds, and the Jedi situated himself between the vent and the youngling. With a final screech, the grate popped off the ceiling and fell to the floor with a menacing clatter. There were a few swears before a thin Mandalorian in gray, teal, and red armor fell through the vent and into a clean crouch.

The stranger dusted themselves off and stood, pulling two blasters out of the holsters attached to their sides. The Mandalorian was tall, almost as tall as Toshinori. If it wasn’t for the subtle shape of the chest plate and the lack of any additions made for extra expenditures, Toshinori would have guessed that the Mandalorian was non-humanoid at first glance. They surveyed the room carefully and then pointed their guns straight at where Toshinori was standing in the corner, despite his (apparently futile) attempts to mask his presence in the Force.

“Who’s there?” they asked, not moving an inch, one blaster pointed at Toshinori’s heart and the other dead between his eyes.

Toshinori slowly strode forward. He prepared himself to grab the kid and run at the first hint of trouble, but for whatever reason, the Force wasn’t warning Toshinori of a threat. Instead, it seemed to almost be pushing him towards the mysterious Mandalorian.

And it quickly became clear why when Young Tenko darted out from around him and ran straight for the warrior. “Buir!”

“Ten’ika?” they gasped, reholstering one of their blasters and reaching for the youngling, “How did you…?”

“Mr. Yagi got me out. He’s a Jetii, but he’s a burc’ya.”

“Is he now?” the Mandalorian slowly returned their gaze to Toshinori, and he shuttered a bit at the hard helmet that offered no window into the Mandalorian’s inner feelings. “Can I trust you not to do anything foolish?”

“Like what?”

“Like attacking a buir that wants nothing but to protect their ad?”

“So long as you harm neither myself nor the youngling, I swear to you that I will not attempt to harm anyone in this room.”

“Good,” and with that, the Mandalorian replaced their second blaster and pulled out a comm, “Great news! The plan went to osik in the best way possible!”

“What?” came a feminine voice from the other end of the line.

“Say hi, Ten’ika.”

“Hi, ba’vodu Void!”

The Mandalorian took back the comm. “Ten’ika’s escaped with the help of a Jetii. They have been named burc’ya by Ten’ika, and I think we owe him enough to get him out of the demon’s hands.”

“Hold it,” came a new voice, this one a bit higher, “If you’ve got your ad, then whose cell am I about to break into?”

“Follow-up question, whose cell am I slicing into?” came another new voice, “Athena, I thought we were meeting at the cell marked priority order?”

“We are. I’m already at Cell Block Theta.”

“I’m at Cell Block Gama.”

The Mandalorian swore in a language Toshinori was unfamiliar with, “Dank farrik! There must be multiple high-level prisoners!”

“It could be my men or my friend,” said Toshinori, “I was here to save Senator David Shield of Selonia and was captured with six of my men.”

“Check to see if it's one of or a group of humanoid males. If it's either of them and they agree to cooperate, meet us back at the ship.”

“Is my distraction still proceeding as planned?”

“Ret’lini, Void. I’d rather Garaki be as distracted as possible when we make our escape.”

“You’re the alor.”

“Everyone else clear with the plan?”

“Yeah, about that…” one woman trailed off, “I kind of broke into the cell as you were talking, and now one of the clones is insisting on talking to the Jetii.”

“Hand them your comm, Stormborn. I’m passing mine to the Jetii now.”

The Mandalorian gave Toshinori the comm link, and he brought it up to his mouth. “Who’s speaking?”

“It’s me, sir,” came the voice of Detroit, “All of the vode are accounted for, but we don’t have eyes on the senator.”

“Is anyone hurt?”

“No sir. But we’ve been stripped of our armor and our weapons.”

“Good. I assume you’re currently face-to-face with another Mandalorian?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Follow their lead. They seem to be offering us a free ride off of this planet, and I’m intent on taking it. Cooperate fully, and we’ll reconvene later.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“I’ve got the senator, and he’s insisting on talking to the Jetii, too.”

“Sure, let everybody steal our comms, why not?” the Mandalorian muttered.

“Toshi, you there?”

“David! I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Right back at you, buddy. I knew you would come for me. But, ugh… why the Mandalorians?”

“They aren’t my doing,” said the Jedi, “But they aren’t shooting at us, and they’re offering us a ride, so I’m inclined to follow them.”

“I’ll trust it for now, then.”

“Okay, is everybody all caught up and happy?” the Mandalorian held out their hand expectantly, and Toshinori passed them the comm, “We all good?”

There was a general round of agreements across the various interconnecting lines.

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before--” the woman’s voice cut off as a large explosion shook the base, “Void did you--”

“Sorry, Mir’ika, that’s on me,” came the sound of a man’s voice over the comm, “My line was cut and the explosions were set to an automatic timer that I couldn’t stop remotely. Avoid the far left side of the base, if possible. There’s some weird shielding of some kind that blocks outside signals.”

“It’s fine, buir. Void, Evergreen, set off your distractions now. Athena, Stormborn, get yourselves and the others back to the ship.”

“Elek, alor,” came the various voices across the comms.

The Mandalorian sighed, before unhooking something behind her back and tossing it at Toshinori, “Here, you’re going to need this.”

Toshinori caught it deftly and then stared at the empty hilt in his hands. His blood ran cold as he realized what he was staring at.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded, igniting the lightsaber and falling into a waiting position from Form VI.

The Mandalorian, rather than raising a blaster, just sighed. “You’re not going to believe me, but I swear I did not kill one of your Jetii companions to get that blade.”

“It doesn’t belong to you.”

“And it didn’t belong to the dar’Jetii that I took it from, either. But I think it prefers me to him, anyways.”

Her words rang true in the Force, but Toshinori didn’t quite let his guard down, “Why should I trust my people’s ancient enemy, especially one who carries the saber of one of our fallen?”

“Because once upon another life, I could’ve been one, too.” The Mandalorian opened their hands, and slowly, carefully, the youngling lifted off the ground and flew into their arms.

Toshinori openly gaped at the Mandalorian, who sighed and situated the youngling on their hip as they grabbed a blaster and co*cked it in their open hand. “Look. I’m no Jetii. But I’m not and never have been a dar’Jetii either. I’m just a simple warrior who can hear the ka’ra sing. The only things I care about are my and my clan’s safety, so if you could kindly trust me for an hour or so, we can get out of this hellhole and I can tell you my tale later.”

Toshinori closed his eyes, and breathed, asking the Force for guidance. Now that he looked for it, he could feel the Force flowing through the Mandalorian. It was a muffled presence, to the point that he could tell that she was silencing it intentionally: a sure sign of a being who had tapped into the power before. And when he saw past this woman, this room, this base, and looked to the Force at large, Toshinori could see that it wanted him to trust her.

“Very well,” the Jedi said, “Let us go before we are cut off from our escape.”

The Mandalorian co*cked her gun and pulled the youngling closer. “I like the sound of that.”

And with one last nod of agreement, Jedi Master Yagi Toshinori followed the Mandalorian and her child out of the maintenance room and into the hall of the base.

*****

12 Years Ago:

Mirai has been living her second life for twenty-odd years now and she still hasn’t grown completely used to the amalgamation of two of her favorite stories.

Since waking up as a small child in Doctor Darth Garaki’s lab, everything about her life has been not-quite-right. It’s in the way the Force shows her visions whenever it deems fit instead of being able to based on her own inert power. It’s in the way she can see the future at all.

It’s in the way that there are these flickers of moments when she can see how one decision she’s about to make will irrevocably and indescribably change everything. It’s in the way that she confidently decides to make the future she knows shatter. It’s in the way she was dropped into the body of a three-year-old, and her mind is somehow complex enough to keep Garaki from reading it.

(Nedzu says it’s probably a combination of factors. Her visions and her shatterpoints and her second life and the Force deciding that It’s not going to reveal the secrets of the being It decided to steal and bring into existence. Mirai just smiles and agrees because for all the fanfiction she read-- or maybe because of it --she has no idea where to draw the line between what the Force can and cannot do.)

(The Force just laughs at Its Daughter and Her Friend. They are not the first to try and quantify It, but at least Its Daughter is wise enough to know that She cannot. There’s a reason It favors Its Daughter so strongly.)

But whatever the reason is, it excites Garaki enough to keep her alive and intrigues his master enough to keep Garaki from dissecting her brain. So Mirai grows up again, in rooms without sunlight, attended to by droids, and trying to meditate like she heard the Jedi did and the Sith refused to.

(Here’s a fact: Jedi or Sith or Something Else, most Users of the Force have a Master.

Here’s another fact: Apprentices are Taught by their Masters that there are limits to the Force. Be it limits they can conquer or limits they cannot, these limits are Taught, and twisted, and changed, and Learned.

Here’s one more fact: there are no limits to the Force. The Force can reveal the future, the past, and the present. It can give life and bring death. It can do absolutely anything It pleases, so long as the Balance is kept.

So here’s a question: what happens when the Force has a Daughter, and that Daughter learns all she does from the Force with no Master left to Teach Her about those so-called “limits”?

Here’s the answer.)

Mirai spends hours alone in her cell meditating, searching the Force for answers, and stumbling upon questions she doesn’t know how to ask. And little by little, she grows into herself and the Force, or the Force grows into her. She isn’t quite sure about the details and the order of operations, but the result is the same.

When Mirai reaches for the Force, the Force reaches back.

The Force says no words, but It Speaks all the same. It shows her flashes of images, of minuscule moments piecing themselves into one narrative. It shows Mirai that she’s early in the story; before Luke, before Leia, before the Empire, before Anakin even steps foot off of Tatooine. It sings Mirai to sleep each night; knowledge her bedtime story and secrets her lullaby. It whispers in her ear of a galaxy larger than she can imagine, and how the characters she knows fit together in this Frankenstein of a universe.

The Force tells her a story both familiar and not. One of two brothers with great power but opposing ideals, and how one chose Darkness and the other chose Light. Of how the Light brother taught others and passed on his knowledge. Of how the Dark brother hoarded his power until his Successor slaughtered him and took his place. Of how the two sides continue to fight each other for generations to come.

But instead of heroes and villains, there are Jedi and Sith. Instead of made-up cities in Japan, there’re made-up planets in a galaxy far, far away. Instead of hero agencies, there are temples. Instead of Trigger, there’s spice.

Instead of quirks, there’s the Force.

It makes no sense (it makes all the sense in the world), but Mirai’s given enough time to adapt.

At least until she’s eleven years old and dumped outside the doors of the facility with dozens of other children and told by Garaki that one of them is to replace the Sith Apprentice that died on Naboo.

“Whoever’s left alive in the end will take his place. I’ll see whoever it is soon.” And with that, the maybe-doctor definitely-Sith locks the doors of the facility and the Force screams.

Mirai turns tail and runs deep into the woods, mind haunted by the visions of children hunting each other down one by one.

She’s lucky enough to escape before the initial slaughter starts, but she can’t help but weep for the ones that aren’t able to get away.

(The Force weeps right alongside Its Daughter, for It loves Its children. But if Its Daughter could just stop and think and Listen for a moment, then It can guide Her to the path It always meant for Her to take. And then, none of Its children will ever have to scream again.

Or so help It, the Force will burn the galaxy down and try again.)

*****

Present:

“Karking Sep droids,” the Mandalorian murmurs to herself as she pulls out a detonation charge, “Ten’ika! What do we do when the droidekas go rolling, rolling, rolling by?”

“We roll a bomb right back!” the youngling cheered.

“Very good, Ten’ika! Would you like to do the honors?”

“Yeah!” Before Toshinori could stop him, the young boy grabbed the charge and slowly rolled it down the hall toward the circle of droids firing at them. The slow movement let the bomb slip through the droids’ shields undeterred until it stopped next to the leg of one of the droids in the middle.

“I’d take some cover if I were you,” the Mandalorian said, throwing herself around a corner, clutching the youngling close.

“Why? How big is the range of that thing?” Toshinori used the borrowed lightsaber to redirect another few shots from the droids.

“It’s Mana’s newest batch and barely stable. So… think hyperdrive exploding mid-flight? Maybe a little bit more?”

Toshinori’s eyes widened and he leaped around the corner, body barely missing the torrent of flames that shot down the hallway like a new rocket in a testing chamber.

“Force take us all!” Toshinori could feel his heart thundering in his chest. “What kind of maniac made those?”

“My older sister,” the Mandalorian said nonchalantly, save for the smallest bits of pride edging into her voice.

“Never let Knight Skywalker, his padawan, or any of the 501st Legion discover them.” Toshinori shuddered at what his fellow Jedi would do in the face of such explosives. He already caused enough problems; Toshinori would hate to see the headaches he caused with that kind of firepower.

“So long as he doesn’t end up on the wrong end of a bounty, I don’t see any reason for him to find out.”

“Also please never take out a bounty on a Jedi. I’m just starting to like you, I don’t want to have to cut you down.”

“With any luck, none of my clan will have to work another day in our lives once we turn in our most recent kill. Speaking of which, I think we should discuss payment for getting you off this miserable rock.”

“Are you really so mercenary to discuss payment mid-escape attempt?”

“I’m not asking for credits. Well, not right now. The bounty we’re about to turn in had a lot of stolen Jetii artifacts. That’s how I got the Jetii’kad you’re using now. If any of it’s half as holy as our beskar’gam and our buy’ce is to us, I’d imagine you’d want it back.”

“You plan to ransom our holy artifacts from us?” Toshinori cried indignantly.

“Not ransom. Just… collect a finder’s fee. We aren’t asking market price or anything-- ka’ra knows we could sell it on the black market and make a fortune --it just took too much effort to transport the goods for us not to get a few credits in return.”

“I cannot promise you any sort of money.”

“I don’t need you to. Even if you give us twenty credits for the lot, we’ll be fine with that payout.”

“Then what do you need me for?”

“Vouch for us. Tell your Jetii bosses that we aren’t selling dried bantha poodoo and calling it herbal tea. We’re legitimate people of business, and we aren’t looking to rip anybody off or start a fight. We just want to find buyers who we know won’t use the merchandise to… I don’t know, blow up Alderaan or something.”

“That, I think I can do,” Toshinori agreed, “Which way is the ship?”

“Down this hall and to the--” the Mandalorian cut herself off before setting Tenko down and giving him a blaster, “Karking-- kriff, kriff, kriff. It’s always something.”

“Buir?”

“Ten’ika, I need you to run down this hall as fast as you can, turn left at the first door you see, and then keep running until you see the ship. Shoot anything that tries to stop you.”

“Buir--”

“Ten’ika, I need you to trust me. This is urgent. Can you repeat my instructions back to me?”

The youngling squared his shoulders and looked his mother in the eye, “Run to the end of the hall, turn left at the first door, run to the ship, and shoot anything that tries to stop me.”

“Good. Now go,” the Mandalorian pushed her son away, and then turned to the hall, throwing magnetic detonators around them in a tight arc.

“What in the stars are you doing?”

“Can’t you feel it?” the woman asked, fear ruling her voice for the first time as she pulled out her comm and hissed something into it in that language that Toshinori couldn’t understand.

Toshinori stretched himself out in the Force, and he easily understood what had the warrior so spooked.

“Garaki,” they said in unison, looking towards the sealed door that hid the slowly growing dark presence.

“I hope you’re ready for a fight,” Toshinori said.

“With him?” the Mandalorian chuckled darkly, readying her two blasters, “Always.”

*****

12 Years Ago:

The wilderness around the facility is one Mirai isn’t used to. Even excluding the continuous solitude of cells, labs, and testing facilities that have plagued her new life, she doesn’t know the jungle.

The jungle was lush and teaming with life. The vibrant greenery, the bursts of colorful flowers, the screeching chatter of birds, and the ever-flowing lifeblood of the Force was almost overwhelming at times. But the adrenaline didn’t let her rest. Every time Mirai starts to slow in the slightest, a new vision flashes across her inner eye, and she’s pushed forward. One more step becomes passing one more tree becomes one more mile, until at last the Force tells her to stop.

Mirai stares up at the mammoth of a tree standing before her. Its presence in the Force is jarringly happy on this miserable day, and the shade it casts is cool in comparison to the warmth of the double sunset. (She was apparently on a planet that orbited a binary star and thus had two suns. Neat.)

Her exhaustion, both mental and physical, was starting to set in, so Mirai backed up and took a running start at the tree. With some assistance from the Force, she was able to jump to one of the closer branches and start climbing up until she felt safe. As soon as she settled on a thick branch almost wider than she was, Mirai noticed that the tree was, in fact, a fruit tree.

“Is this a coincidence?” she asked the open jungle. For some reason, she got the feeling that somewhere, someone was laughing at her.

(It was the Force. There are no coincidences, not with It, and It found it hilarious that Its Daughter still believed in something so silly.)

Mirai hesitantly stood and reached for the reddish-orange fruits that hung plump and ripe from the tree. She grabbed one about the size of a grapefruit and pulled it down. She picked the small bit of stem off the fruit and looked the ribbed fruit over in her hands. Mirai brought it to her nose, sniffed it, looked it over one more time, tried to use the Force to see if it was toxic, and then took a bite.

And then another.

Juice trickled down her chin as she devoured the first real food of her second life. After eight years of flavorless ration packets and one day of nothing, the fruit, with its sweet flavor, refreshing juiciness, and crisp texture, tasted like heaven.

“f*ck. I am not crying over a f*cking fruit,” she whispered to herself, taking another bite, “I’m not.”

(The Force just laughed again and agreed to keep Its Daughter’s secret.)

Mirai swallowed and then grabbed another fruit and a nearby vine. She sat down on the tree branch, keeping her back straight against the trunk, and tied her leg to the branch like her survivalist friend once taught her to once upon a past life. She let her senses expand into the Force, leaned back against the trunk even further, closed her eyes, and willed herself to See.

Mirai breathed in, breathed out, and let the Force flood her mind. Of the thirty-seven children who Garaki initially sent out into the jungle, nineteen were gone. Of the seventeen left besides Mirai, the Force showed her four: a young boy starting up a fire with some slayed beast waiting to roast on a spit, a teenage girl stripping wires out of an arm piece of some sort, a boy with reptilian features pushing the Force into his rapidly-healing wounds, and…

“Is that Nedzu?” Mirai gasped. The Force rang out a feeling of truth, and Mirai was struck to the soul by its intensity.

What was Nedzu doing on a planet like this? He was a hero in the story she knew, although implied to be one with a backstory chock-full of illegal experimentation. If he had been captured and experimented on because of his Force-sensitivity then she guessed that added up.

Wait. Did this mean that Garaki and All for One were the ones that experimented on Nedzu during canon? The manga hadn’t gotten there yet if it was going to go there at all.

‘Not the time,’ Mirai thought to herself, returning to her vision. Nedzu burrowed and hid in a small hole as another presence in the Force slowly approached his hidden destination. ‘Nedzu’s the only canon character here, besides possibly me. It’s very likely that one or both of us are meant to survive this. But neither of us is meant to be evil. Not as villains, and definitely not as Sith. So why…’

An image of a small hanger bay with half a dozen waiting spaceships flashed through her mind, along with the other three children from before.

“Holy sh*t. You want me to escape.” The Force glowed golden-warm as Mirai started to understand fully. “That’s why you brought me here. If Nedzu fell to the Dark Side, then the story would be dead. No one would be safe from a vengeful Nedzu, let alone the Jedi. Or the eventual Rebels. The Balance of the Force would be completely gone, and the Dark Side would reign supreme. So you brought me here to help Nedzu and preserve the story.”

The Force just continued to glow warm in her chest, neither confirming nor denying Mirai’s claims. Exhaustion forgotten, Mirai opened her eyes and untied herself from the tree branch. She pulled a few of the tree’s mystery fruits from the branches using the Force and climbed back down.

“Alright, no time to lose. Take me to Nedzu.” The Force obliged and led Its Daughter deeper into the jungle, happy that She was beginning to Listen to It in a way very few did.

*****

Present:

“General Yagi. How indecent of you. Don’t you know that guests should wait for the host to show them around before they go gallivanting around a stranger’s home?” Garaki asked jovially, though the gleam behind his goggles ensured Toshinori that he was anything but. “Allow me to return you to your room and we may forget about this social faux-pas.”

“I thank you for the offer, but I feel that I have overstayed my welcome.” Toshinori raised the white lightsaber into a defensive position and readied his feet to spring into one of his favored Form VI stances.

“I do hate to get heated with guests, but suit yourself.” The Sith Lord raised his hand, and four hulky droids of an unknown design stepped forward.

Garaki caught Toshinori’s look of surprise and offered a smile that was chillingly cordial. “Admiring the new build? I created this model specifically to combat your Order. Noumu, I call them, and with any luck, they’ll be exactly the weapon we need to end this war.”

“Keep it together, Jetii,” the Mandalorian urged across the small communicator tucked into his ear, “Remember the plan.”

“Then let’s see how these Noumu stand against a real Jedi,” Toshinori urged, glaring at the Sith.

“Noumu,” Garaki said simply, continuing to smile, “Attack.”

Toshinori bated the nearest one left, and then launched right, flying towards the second nearest Noumu droid. He slashed in a downward arc at the droid, slicing the saber across its breastplate. Sparks flew and metal screeched, but when Toshinori looked back to take stock of the damage done, he saw that there was none, save for a scorched line down the metal.

“Did you see that, Mana?”

“Pure beskar, or at least a heavy alloy. This is going to be an osik fight.” One of the Mandalorians muttered into Toshinori’s ear.

“What does that mean for me?” Toshinori used the saber to block the Noumu’s fists, which also sparked and screeched, but did not break. With a flick of a finger, he turned the blade’s power up as high as it would go in the hopes that the added pressure, heat, and weight would make a difference in combat.

“Beskar’s heavy as all hell. The droids have to be nearly hollow if they’re keeping that armor upright.”

“I’m set up up top. Just give me a target and an order to fire,” the original Mandalorian said. Once this was all over, Toshinori was going to demand the names, or at least nicknames of some sort, from the Mandalorians. It was honestly starting to get ridiculous. “One Noumu at your nine, and two at your six.”

Toshinori ducked under a swinging arm and vaulted over the heads of two others. “Are there any chinks in the armor?” the mechanically-inclined Mandalorian asked.

“Not that I’m seeing,” Toshinori said. He blocked another droid’s attack and sent a Force-powered punch at another. The blow pushed back one of the droids, but it also sent a wave of pain through Toshinori’s hand that he had to force himself not to wince at. “I’m starting to run out of ideas, here.”

“Michio, where you at?”

“I just snuck back to the ship with the hollo-schematics. The armor is a beskar and quadranium steel alloy, heavy on the beskar. You’re right about the interior being hollow to accommodate for the weight, but they’ve got two weaknesses that I’m seeing: the joints and the head. The processor’s in the head, so disabling that would shut the whole thing down, and the joints are made of chromium to give a better range of movement. Hit those, and the limbs stop working.”

“I can work with limbs.” Toshinori slid under the outstretched arm of the nearest Noumu and plunged the borrowed saber into the shoulder joint of the droid. Sure enough, the arm started to flail with the saber severing it from the mainframe, and with a swift slice, Toshinori was able to cut it clean off.

“Looks like your Jedi killers aren’t completely ready yet.” Toshinori taunted Garaki, cutting off the other arm before going for the droid’s legs.

“Perhaps, but the defect still has a few friends.”

Toshinori felt a shift in the Force, and he ducked and rolled towards another Noumu, slashing another pair of robotic hip joints, and cleaving the arm as the droid fell. “How interesting. Because so do I.”

Quick as a flash, two shots rang out across the chamber. There was a moment of silence after the plasma bolts rang true, and then the two remaining untouched Noumu collapsed into a heap on the base floor.

“Let’s get out of here, I don’t know what else Garaki has in store for us, and I don’t want to find out.”

“It has been an enlightening visit,” Toshinori said, severing the second arm of the final Noumu, “But the other guests and I must make our timely departure. But don’t worry, we have left you a generous parting gift.”

Toshinori threw the Sith back with the Force and closed the blast door between them. Another shot rang out, blasting the door’s switch and locking Garaki on the other side. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“Gladly,” Toshinori heard the Mandalorian agree before he felt the detonator spring to life and the dozens of charges that the Mandalorian planted earlier went off in quick succession.

“Are the others already on the ship?” Toshinori asked, running towards the hanger.

“Everybody’s accounted for, save for you and my vod’ika,” a new Mandalorian said into the comms, “I’ve got the med bay prepped for you two, and Stormborn has the hyperdrive fired up.”

“Then let’s head to Coruscant.”

“Elek, alor!” the other Mandalorians shouted into the comms.

“Yes,” Toshinori agreed, “It’ll be good to be home.”

*****

12 Years Ago:

Finding Nedzu’s hiding spot is easy enough, but convincing him to get out of his little burrowed hole is most definitely not.

Eventually, Mirai just decides to do what she does best by now and places a couple of the fruits outside the burrow, sits down, and meditates.

She opens herself up to the Force and tries to make her mind seem as welcoming as possible. She thinks of good things, kind things. Things she and Nedzu don’t yet know of in this life. The taste of the mystery fruit is first, as it is most vivid. But then it turns to other things from the My Hero universe, the Star Wars universe, and her past life, too. It’s a hodgepodge of odd snippets, but the flashes of UA dorms, Nabooian dresses, and Earthian stories are enough to intrigue the forever-curious mouse-dog-bear thing.

And the music. Never could she forget the music.

Disney, ABBA, and Queen follow The Day and Long Hope Philia with Star Wars scores thrown somewhere in the mix. Her mind is a mess of a mental radio as music is projected into the Force, but it does its job, because she can feel Nedzu cautiously reach into her mind trying to figure out what in the world is happening.

She lets him search around, combing through memories in search of an explanation. And once Mirai can feel that Nedzu is curious enough and comfortable enough to stay for answers, she opens up further and pushes a message from her mind to his.

“Let me tell you a story,” she thinks. “It’s not actually one story, though. In fact, it’s at least three, but I reckon it could probably be more. It starts, of course, with a kid who loved stories, and from there, it grows into something greater than I ever thought possible.”

Mirai then runs through the My Hero Academia and then the Star Wars plotlines as best as she could. It was a lot to remember, but the eight years of meditation and self-reflection strengthened her mind to the point that the convoluted tales are easy to tell. By the time she finishes explaining the (honestly kind of abhorrent) sequel trilogy, Nedzu is looking at her with a small level of trust and a bit less apprehension.

“It is very likely that you are crazy,” said Nedzu, “But I do believe that you believe it to be true. And if it is, then I thank you for telling me exactly who I need to bring down to enact my revenge.”

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” Mirai says on instinct.

“But alas, neither of us are Jedi. And with what I have been through, I would sooner see the Sith eradicated than join them."

"That's all I need," Mirai sighed, "Well, almost. Do you want to escape with me?"

"I would love to, my dear. What is the plan?"

"The Force is leading me towards these three." Mirai broadcasted the mental images of the three other children out to the Force. She felt Nedzu tap into the memories and heard him hum in contemplation. "I think we need their help or we won't be able to leave."

"I do not trust this Force quite yet, but I do believe you. Very well, let's gather them and leave together."

Nedzu held out a paw, and Mirai took it, shaking in agreement.

There was nary a hint of warning before Mirai's eyes went purple and she suddenly saw an ominous glass-like disk hovering over their heads.

And just when she thought this couldn’t get any stranger.

*****

Present:

“It’s good to see you well, general,” said Detroit from his place on the free examination bunk.

The male Mandalorian that had prepped the med bay for them had sat everyone involved with the escape down and looked them over. Young Tenko had been the first to be examined, and David, Toshinori, and his men had all been shooed out to the deck to awkwardly wait with the rest of the Mandalorians. The one Young Tenko called ‘Buir’ had been the only one to stay, and then had been checked in turn before being ushered out. David had opted to get examined by himself, but Commander Detroit had insisted upon staying with his brothers while they cycled through the strange doctor’s office.

“And you, commander.” Toshinori stretched out his arms and yawned. “Although I will be glad when I’m back at the temple on recovery leave and able to catch up on some sleep.”

“Sleep may be the least of your worries, Jetii,” came the voice of the doctor. He stepped out with a woozy-looking California and scowled at the datapad in his hands. “I’ll need to run some more tests, check a few sources, and get quite a few second opinions, but I think the Kaminoans karked you all over. Big time.”

“What do you mean, vod?”

Toshinori turned towards the voice of the Original Mandalorian as she approached their group of oddballs. She had taken off her holsters and her blasters were seemingly nowhere in sight, but she kept the gray, teal, and red armor on despite the safe environment.

“Take a look at this datapad.” The Doctor Mandalorian showed off a pad displaying the scans of a brain. “I just took this scan of our friend California, here, because he’s got a concussion and I wanted to ensure that there was no abnormal bleeding or swelling of the brain. Take notice of this small ridge right here. Now, take a look side-by-side of California’s scan, and a scan belonging to your average healthy humanoid.”

“The ridge is missing,” Toshinori observed.

“Exactly. Now, because the Kaminoans are secretive bastards and their cloning process is a ‘matter of intergalactic security,’ no one’s gotten a chance to peer-review their treatments of the clones and how they go about their process of producing them. But I can guarantee that at the rate they’re producing soldiers for this war, it involves some form of rapid aging.”

“What of it?” Detroit asked, hackles raised.

“Rapid aging is always a gamble, mainly because it’s precise work that is easy as hell to kark up. Especially when it comes to delicate organs like the brain. That ridge right there in the scan? That’s a tumor. Now, if the Kaminoans used the same exact process on every single clone they ever produced, then every single clone in the Republic forces has that tumor.”

The Original Mandalorian let loose a long string of curses. Toshinori empathized greatly.

“How many clones have the Kaminoans produced for the war so far?” she asked once she had calmed down.

“At this very moment? Hundreds of millions. Most of which are on active duty. And I know of orders for even more.” Toshinori rubbed a hand down his weary face. “And if it’s been this long with that many having been produced, then I can almost guarantee that the Kaminoans or someone else is covering this discovery up.”

“Dank farrik. Can you trust your superiors with this discovery?”

“The Jedi Council? Without question. Master Koon and Master Ti will be especially appalled to learn this. But the Senate? It’s very likely that some in the Senate are helping to cover this up. I best not inform them quite yet.”

“Do you trust the senator on board?”

“Yes. David may even know who would attempt to do such a thing.”

“Okay. Good.” The Original Mandalorian turned to the Doctor Mandalorian. “Orochi, scan the rest of the men to see if they have matching tumors. We can’t start pointing fingers until we have irrefutable proof. I’ll get some contacts on the line to see if they can dig up a brain scan of Jango Fett’s to make sure that he hadn’t developed a tumor near the end of his life and that the Kaminoans karked everyone by taking genetic material from an imperfect model. Jetii, tell your Council about your escape, that you’re being escorted by Mandalorians, that you have potentially delicate intel that is not safe to relay over comm lines, and about possible artifacts being returned to the temple. Use the artifacts as an excuse for my clan’s presence, but mention nothing more important than that. We don’t want to draw unwanted attention.”

“And what name do I give them when they start asking questions?”

“Say that Sasaki Mirai of Clan Badger and House Kast is speaking on behalf of her clan and the bounty she wishes to cash in.” The Mandalorian shoved a communicator into his hands and nodded sharply.

“Very well, Sasaki,” Toshinori bowed, “It’ll be done.”

“Good. Karking tumors, ka’ra above,” Sasaki spat, turning her back to them, “We’ll reconvene later. Mana, scan for bugs and scramble the signals! We’ve got a plethora of long-distance calls to make!”

Toshinori turned away from the retreating Mandalorian and groaned.

“I’ll get the rest of the men scanned,” said the doctor, “Come with me, California we’ll get you settled.”

“Sir?” asked the commander behind him, tone shaky.

“You and your brothers will be fine, Detroit,” said Toshinori, “We must trust in the Force.”

Detroit shot him a look but nodded and left to attend to his brothers in the med bay. Toshinori slumped his back against the wall, groaned again, and slid down into a squat.

“Dank farrik, indeed,” he said, opening the borrowed comm and mentally preparing for the hundreds of questions the Jedi Council would have for him, “Dank farrik, indeed.”

*****

12 Years Ago:

After Mirai found Nedzu, the other three kids were, well… not easier to convince, per se, but quicker.

Michio was the first one they found, and it was no small feat. The young boy’s presence in the Force was nigh nonexistent, and neither Mirai nor Nedzu could sense him. There was no fear or panic as expected from a child with their life on the line, nor any bloodthirsty ruthlessness from a malicious being who wanted the Sith apprenticeship for themselves. Eventually, they had to stop looking through the Force completely and follow any slight sign of human disturbance in the world around them.

Hours of searching led them to a trail of smoke streaking across the sky. The pair followed it and found Michio tending a cooking fire with a spit and a few bird bones tossed to the side.

“Hi,” the child of seven said casually, looking Mirai and Nedzu over, “You want dinner?”

“You do realize there’s a battle to the death going on?” Mirai asked incredulously.

“And you haven’t tried to kill me yet, so… dinner?”

“....f*ck it, hell yes.”

Michio explained his piece as Mirai and Nedzu tore through the mystery bird like rabid tookas. Like Mirai, Michio was an anomaly in the Force. He was Force-null. Garaki had run experiment after experiment to see whether or not he could use Michio’s DNA to dampen the Force-sensitivity of others. Whatever answers the man had sought must have been found, though, because Michio had been tossed out of the facility and told to run like the others. He knew that he had next to no chance of surviving the other Force-sensitive children quickly embracing the Dark Side and grabbing onto more power than they’d ever had.

Luckily, that made him more than amicable to their escape plan.

“C’mon. I think I know where Orochi is.”

Michio grabbed the second roasted bird that he had been working on while the other two devoured the remains of the first. He then led Mirai and Nedzu deeper into the jungle, calling out for his friend. All the while, the glass-like disc that had been following Mirai around since she recruited Nedzu began to crack.

“Oroooooochiiiiii! Come out you snake!”

“Come now, don’t be rude.” Mirai screeched and whipped around at the appearance of the strange voice. Behind her, a boy around her biological age was hanging upside down from a tree branch, his long, braided hair inches from the ground. “There’s no reason to call me names.”

“It’s not name-calling if that’s what you are,” Michio pouted before holding up the cooked bird. “You want dinner or not?”

“Yes please.” The boy dropped down and snatched away the skewer. There was a flash of fangs as he began to eat, and his reptilian eyes looked Mirai over like he would rip into her next.

“Hi…” Mirai began, “Do you want to escape with us?”

“Us being…” The reptilian boy licked at his chops and continued to eye Mirai up.

“You, me, Nedzu, Michio, and another girl we still have to find.”

“That’s one option.” The boy agreed. “Another option is I kill you and your tooka-hybrid now and Michio and I stay safe and alone in these woods.”

“Rude.” Michio grabbed back the skewer of meat and the other boy immediately cried out.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“No food unless you’re polite.”

“But Michi--”

“But Orochi--” Michio mimicked, “We both can’t win. I know that and you know that. But if we can escape…”

Michio made puppy eyes and blinked up at the boy innocently. He folded almost immediately. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

“We need to find this girl.” Mirai thought hard about the last mystery kid and directed the image at the boy. “The Force says she’s important somehow, and that we won’t succeed without her.”

The boy grumbled. “I don’t know her, but I know that stretch of trees. I can take you to her if you want.”

“I’d like that--”

“Orochi.”

“Orochi. I’m Mirai, and this is Nedzu.”

“Come on. The sooner we find your girl, the sooner we can leave.”

And so Mirai followed Orochi as he led them dutifully through the jungle, the glass-like disc that seemed to follow them cracking more and more all the while.

*****

Present:

“Joyous it is to see you, Master Yagi,” said Master Yoda, “Escaped Darth Garaki, you have. But where you are, we still do not know.”

The Mandalorians had been kind enough to lend Toshinori their common room to make the holo-call to the Council, and all of the members had been summoned to hear his debrief.

“And it is good to see you all, Masters. As for where I am, I’ve been informed that’s somewhere between Garaki’s hidden base and Coruscant. It’s a little hard to tell while in hyperdrive.”

“Been informed?” Master Windu asked. “Are you safe, Master Yagi?”

“More than. As are all of my men and Senator Shield.”

“You’ve completed your mission, then?”

“Yes, but not without a little help. My hosts are the only reason any of us are alive, and for that, I thank them greatly.”

“What hosts?” asked Master Mundi.

“Masters, I and my men were saved from Garaki by a band of Mandalorian mercenaries.”

“That sounds quite contradictory,” said Master Bilaba, “Aren’t the Mandalorians neutral in the war and pacifists besides?”

“Not necessarily,” Master Windu said, “There is another, more violent faction of Mandalorians called Death Watch. That, however, makes your statement even more confusing, Master Yagi, as Death Watch are terrorists known for their hatred of Jedi.”

“The group I am traveling with has claimed no association with either the New Mandalorians or Death Watch. The closest swearing of allegiance to any group is the leader declaring herself Sasaki Mirai of Clan Badger and House Kast.”

“Well, that is peculiar,” said Master Kenobi thoughtfully, “House Kast? That’s a name I haven’t heard since my padawan years.”

“Know something, you do?”

“During Mandalor’s recent civil war, there were three factions: the pacifistic New Mandalorians who wanted to rid themselves of their warrior history, the extremist Death Watch who wanted to embrace it further, and the True Mandalorians who wanted to strike a compromise between the two. House Kast was one of the more influential names of the third faction. When the New Mandalorians won, they offered to grant citizenship to any True Mandalorians who agreed to give up their arms and swear fealty to the new regime, but many refused and chose exile instead. By the sound of it, those who helped you escape, Master Yagi, are some of those exiled Mandalorians, or perhaps, the descendants of some.”

“Based on the age range of those whom I have met, I’m inclined to believe a mix of the former and the latter,” Toshinori said, “But what does that mean for me in the meantime?”

“Well, they seem to be treating you well. Just stay cordial and polite. I doubt they’ll harm you, Senator Shield, or your division if they haven’t done so already.”

“That’s one matter settled. But the Mandalorians are far from out of surprises. They seem to have experience with Darth Garaki, and the leader and her son, I know, are Force-sensitive.”

“Are you sure?” Master Mundi asked, sitting up in his seat, “I can believe the child, but the fully-grown Mandalorian woman?”

“I saw the leader, this Sasaki, use the Force before my very eyes. She levitated her son to her and out of danger, sensed Darth Garaki approaching before even I did, and used it to guide two blaster shots to strike minuscule targets at over a thousand paces. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she’s powerful in the Force.”

Master Kenobi looked contemplative. “This Mandalorian, did she wear traditional armor? And if so, is she hard to sense with it on?”

Toshinori thought and reached out his sense, trying to get a latch onto Sasaki. “Yes,” he said, after another few moments, “She has yet to remove any of her armor, and while she wears it, her presence in the Force is muffled. In fact, with it on, I doubt I would even be able to tell that she was Force-sensitive at all.”

“Beskar, then,” said Master Kenobi, “It naturally disrupts the Force. Ancient Mandalorians used it to hide their emotions and protect themselves from Jedi mind tricks. I imagine this Mandalorian used it to hide from us for so long.”

“But what would she gain from doing such a thing?” Master Koon asked.

“Is she a Dark Side user?” Master Unduli prompted.

“Considering that she and her fellows broke into Garaki’s facility to save a child from his clutches, I doubt it.”

“Speculate, all we can do. Meet these Mandalorians, we should. Judge them, we should not, until we see them face-to-face.”

“Knowing that Sasaki specifically requested to meet with the Council to discuss their involvement in my mission and a few other private matters, I believe I can convince them easily.”

“Then we will trust you to handle matters until you arrive. Good luck, Master Yagi, and may the Force be with you.” Master Windu and the others bid their goodbyes and signed off, and Toshinori collapsed back into his seat with a sigh.

“Who was that?” a tinny voice came from the ventilation shaft, and Toshinori jumped.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me! The spoooooky ghost that haunts this ship.”

Toshinori pushed out his senses and caught a small presence hiding in the shaft to his right. His heart slowed down and he chuckled, remembering all of the pranks he and his clanmates had pulled as younglings in the Temple.

“Well, mister ga-ga-ghost. You certainly have me scared.”

“You better be! I’m super scary. Even scarier than buir when ba’vodu Stormborn says something silly about getting her a date.”

“Is this the same Buir that Young Tenko was talking about earlier?”

“Yeah,” the voice said, “Buir’s Ten’ika’s buir, too. Was that who you were talking to? Your buire? Because if it was, you have a lot.”

“Buir means parent, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then no. Those were just my… it’s a little hard to explain, but we are all Siblings in the Force. They, however, would be like the much older siblings that constantly get stuck with babysitting duty.”

“So your ori’vode,” the voice said decisively, “I’m an ori’vod, too. Were they comming to make sure you haven’t done anything stupid? That’s what a lot of ori’vode do for their vod’ikas.”

“Yes, mostly.”

“And have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Done anything stupid?”

Toshinori laughed boisterously. “Not recently, no. But they might claim otherwise.”

“That’s usually how it goes,” the voice agreed sagely.

“Might I be able to see you, Mister Ghost? I think our talk would be easier if we could have it face-to-face.”

“I find myself agreeing,” came a voice from behind him, and Toshinori turned to see Sasaki standing in the doorway between the common room and the co*ckpit, “Especially since Mana is going to flush the ventilation shafts for ghosts in twenty, nineteen, eighteen--”

As Sasaki counted down, the vent burst open, and a young boy scrambled out. Something caught on the vent grate, and the boy yelped before jumping up into the air and snapping out a pair of bright scarlet wings.

“No fair, buir!” the boy cried, “I was just getting the Jetii where I wanted him!”

“He’s a guest, Kei’ika. Leave him be. Now, you and I both know you’re supposed to be in bed if we want your internal clock to be on Coruscant time. What are you doing in the vents? Besides scaring Jetiise, that is.”

The boy pouted. “I just wanted to know what’s going on. I went to bed with Tenko in the dar’Jetti’s hands, and I woke up with him snuggled in my bunk and drooling on my wings. And, and you and my ba’vode and ba’buire haven’t said anything about the dar’Jetti coming back--”

“Because he won’t be, Keigo. I swear it on the ka’ra and the manda, Garaki will never touch either of you again.”

“Swear it?”

“Ori’haat, Kei’ka. I swear it.”

The boy looked at Sasaki before he nodded. “Good.”

“Good. Now, let’s get you to bed,” Sasaki said, reaching for the boy. The child folded in his wings and let himself drop into his mother’s waiting arms.

“That goes for you, too, Mr. Jetii,” the woman said as she walked towards the ship’s corridor, “We’ll be arriving on Coruscant soon enough, and hyperdrive-lag is never fun. Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“G’night, Mr. Jetii,” the boy echoed.

“Goodnight,” Toshinori said with a wave before he collapsed back into the chair.

What a day.

*****

12 Years Ago:

“What a day,” Mana said with a happy sigh as she kicked her feet up and smirked up at the boys caught in her trap, “Nothing much to add, Orochi?”

“That kriffing backstabber,” the serpentine boy swore, “She walked us right into a trap! I’m going to tear out her eyes and feed her her own fingers!”

“Not before I roast the tooka to perfection and serve it to her with wild garlic!” Michio agreed, similarly dangling from a nearby tree in a techno net.

“As entertaining as that sounds,” Mana cut in, “I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve got an Apprenticeship to win, after all, so it’s time to say good-- time to say…”

“Looking for something?” called a young, girlish voice behind her.

Mana turned around to see a girl with green hair holding up her lightsaber.

“And really, boys, you’d think Nedzu and I would just abandon you?! Have a little faith.”

There was a sound of snapping, and the two nets fell to the ground, and the cables that previously held them up had breaks that suspiciously looked like something had chewed through them. There was a flash of white, and the aforementioned tooka hybrid ran up to the girl.

“You really had to break my sh*t, too?” Mana asked with a sigh. “Oh well. This complicates things, but I’m still going to win.”

Mana pushed the for back, pinning each of them to trees. “The real question is, who do I kill first, hm? Do I go for Orochi, who can match even Senesha on power alone, or do I take out one of the others, who are a little too clever for their own good? Choices, choices.”

Orochi and Michio struggled against her hold, but the girl just met her gaze head-on and said a single word: “Nali.”

Mana’s blood went cold. “How do you know that name?” she asked, pushing the girl harder against the wood.

“The reason you’re doing so well in this exercise is because you’ve survived something similar before. And you survived because of Nali.”

“Shut up.” Mana tightened her hold further and the girl gasped in a gulp of air but continued.

“You and Nali had teamed up. The two of you survived out here for days and no one found you. And then Auros came hunting because it was only the three of you left--”

“Shut. Up!”

“--and Nali took that hit for you. She died in your arms, and then you took her saber and you slaughtered Auros. You dragged it out. You made it hurt.”

Mana flung the girl away and into another tree. “I said shut up!”

“You channeled the Dark Side to get revenge. And you did get revenge,” the girl continued despite everything, “But it didn’t make you feel any better. Because the Dark Side doesn’t lead to peace; it takes your fear, it takes your anger, it takes your hate, and it gives you nothing but suffering in return.”

The girl looked her in the eyes, and gold met gold. “Nali didn’t die because you were weak, Mana. She died because your bond was strong enough and somehow, despite this place, pure enough, that she willingly traded her life for yours. But this isn’t living. Garaki and his Master aren’t offering you a life for your loyalty, they’re offering you a position for your servitude. And one day, they’re going to find a younger, more powerful person they want under their thumb, and one way or another, you will die because of it. And then Nali’s sacrifice will amount to nothing.”

Mana breathed hard and ragged, trying to regain her slipping control. The girl just continued to look at her with those all-knowing eyes and tossed her the weapon.

“Go ahead and kill me if you want. I’m not going to stop you. All I’m going to say is you have another choice.”

“And what’s that? Dying here, in this awful place?” Mana asked, a little hysterical as she gripped her lightsaber, Nali’s lightsaber, in her hand.

“Escape. Get out of this hellhole with us and live, just like your friend always wanted.”

Mana looked at the saber. She could ignite it right now and put it straight through the girl’s mouth. She could kill all four of them and win this little competition once and for all.

She could do it.

It would be so easy.

Mana clips the lightsaber back onto her belt and lowers the three kids and one tooka-thing to the ground.

“What do you need me to do?” Mana asks, reaching out a hand to the girl and pulling her to her feet.

“You know how to slice into things?” the girl asks, taking the hand easily and standing up.

Mana snorts. “You bet can bet your pretty little tooka on it.”

“Then welcome to the team.”

“Happy to be here.”

And as Mirai and Mana shake hands, Mirai watches as the glass-like disc that’s been following her around all day cracks one more time, and then completely and utterly shatters.

*****

Present:

Mirai stops her sister from fidgeting further with the blaster strapped to her side.

“It’s going to be okay, vod.”

“They’re going to know, Mir’ika,” Mana says, “They’re going to know, and then they’ll kill me, and I’ll deserve it--”

“Esibu was not your fault. You were seventeen. You were forced there when you were six, and you haven’t touched the Dark Side in over a decade. If they’re still going to be judgy and mean about it, then we’ll sic Nedzu on them and go.”

Mana leaned forward, letting her helmeted forehead rest against Mirai’s. “I’m so scared, vod’ika. I don’t want my past actions to haunt the entire clan.”

“And they won’t. On my honor as alor, I swear that this family will stay intact. Come, sit with me for a while. Meditate a bit and scream your feelings into the ka’ra. You’ll feel better.”

Mana sat opposite Mirai and matched her breathing. A half-an-hour later, the older woman was much calmer and was steady as stone when Void messaged over the comms to tell everyone that they were landing on Coruscant.

Master Yagi got passed the comm when the docking patrols had requested for identification, and the Jedi rattled off codes that let them fly straight to the Jedi Temple and land in one of the Order’s many personal loading bays.

“Showtime,” Mirai says, standing up and ushering her sister along with her. The two ambled down to the ship’s doors, and when the hangar was opened, the entirety of Clan Badger was situated just so behind the Jedi, clones, and Galactic Senator.

And who was it that welcomed them but Master Yoda himself.

“Master Yagi, Smash Squadron. Welcome home. And Senator Shield, good it is, to see you safe. Happy were your friends when they were told you would soon be back. Asked I was, to give you this.”

The ancient Jedi Master passed David Shield a comm link, which the man opened instantly.

“Padme got Melissa out, thank god.” He heaved a sigh before reading the other messages and letting out a groan. “Bail, Padme, Mon, and Riyo are going to kill me with paperwork. Damn, did they rewrite the entire Republic lawbook while I was gone?”

“Unsurprised, I would be, if that were the case,” the goblin Jedi said with a chuckle, “Very hard working, your group is.”

“I swear, one day I will make one of them Chancellor just to spite them,” David groaned, before turning to Master Yagi. “Well, it’s time for me to head out. Thank you so much, Toshi, for coming back for me.”

“For you, David? Always.” The Jedi pulled the Senator in for a hug, where the two did the two-men-back-slap thing that always made Mirai pause.

“And thank you, all of you, for your help,” Shield bowed in thanks to the clones and then to Mirai and her family, “If I could ever repay the favor, all you need to do is ask.”

“Thank you,” Mirai responded, “We’ll get back to you on that if we ever need a favor.”

“My thanks, I must also express,” said Yoda, calling the attention back to him as Shield snuck off, “Lost for good, many thought Master Yagi to be. A debt, we now owe you.”

“You owe us no such thing,” Mirai said, “As saving Master Yagi and his men was a happy accident. But we will gladly take it if that means we can speak to the leaders of your order. We collected a highly coveted bounty recently, one that had hundreds if not thousands of your stolen artifacts. We would like to discuss this, privately, if you would let us.”

“Ready to meet you, the Council is. Follow me, please, Alor Sasaki.”

Michio, Orochi, Athena, and Stormborn all grabbed two hover boxes full of the Jedi artifacts, while Evergreen grabbed the sealed transport cell of the bounty’s body. Tenko and Keigo each grabbed one of Mirai’s hands, and their party was escorted through the temple and to a large chamber.

“Commander Detroit, you and the others are welcome to wait for us here, but feel more than free to find your barracks, my quarters, or any other publicly-open rooms if you so chose. I have a feeling that this will be a long meeting.”

“We’re fine for now, sir,” said Detroit, “We’ll wait.”

“Follow me, Clan Badger,” Yoda said, walking through the chamber doors.

Mirai let All Might Master Yagi follow as she took a deep breath in. She allowed herself one more moment before she followed to meet with the Jedi Council. Her family followed after her, and even with the large room, it was a tight fit with her, her kids, her siblings, Athena, Stormborn, Void, Evergreen, and Thunderclap, plus all of the crates. Opposite the door, the Jedi Council sat in a wide semi-circle, and Mirai spotted a few faces she recognized: Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, Mace Windu, Depa Billaba, Luminara, Obi-Wan, Gran Torino--

Mirai took a double-take at Torino’s wrinkled scowl. Right. My Hero/Star Wars crossover. Some change was to be expected.

Yagi and Yoda took their own seats in the circle of Jedi, and Mace Windu called the session to order.

“Thank you for meeting on such short notice. It is thrilling to see all of your faces once more,” he said, nodding to Yagi, “But that is not the primary reason we have been called today. Alor Sasaki of Clan Badger and House Kast, you have the floor.”

Mirai stepped forward and bowed. “Thank you for meeting with us today, esteemed council. As you know, my clan and I recently killed a bounty and intend to submit them to the Republic. However, they had… countless Jedi artifacts hidden throughout their base, which we intend to return to you, for a small finders fee.”

“And how do we know these ‘artifacts’ are genuine?” asked Master Mundi, “You could very well be trying to trick us for an extra profit. You would hardly be the first mercenaries to do so.”

“Which is why we brought proof.” Michio, Orochi, Athena, and Stormborn took that as their cue to open up the hover boxes, revealing the hundreds of lightsabers tucked carefully inside.

There were gasps around the room as the Jedi Masters took in the sight.

“I should apologize, as well. I and two of my siblings have been using Jetii’kad in preparation for facing Darth Garaki. We would be more than happy to return those specific blades for free, and deeply apologize if we offended any of you in doing so.”

“So you and a few of your fellows are Force-sensitive?” Windu asked, his voice shaken.

“Yes,” Mirai said with a nod.

“Then we have much more to discuss than simply haggling over lightsaber prices. Who even had such things in the first place? I shudder to think we overlooked such a cache.”

“I don’t think you overlooked it, exactly. You just didn’t have the right opportunity to take it back. We, luckily, did.” Mirai nodded at Evergreen, who unsealed the transport cell and raised up the cybernetics attached to a once grotesquely sick body. “On behalf of Clan Badger, I would like to collect the 500,000 credit bounty on General Grievous of the Separatist Army. I, unfortunately, must also request 75,000 credits of that be given to us in spice, as we owe a broker a great debt in return for the information that led us to retrieving my son from Darth Garaki.”

There was a moment of silence before the Jedi Council was thrown into pandemonium. Mace Windu winced as dozens of shatterpoints ruptured beyond repair.

Unbeknownst to him, Mirai winced as well and suppressed a sigh as cosmic glass shattered all around her.

*****

12 Years Ago:

After such trouble recruiting the others, the breakout itself should not have been as simple as it was.

Mana proved to be a more-than-proficient slicer, who hacked into the ship code and rigged the shuttles to blow like it was nothing. Orochi similarly took up his part with grace and healed Mirai, Mana, Nedzu, and Michio to near-perfect condition. Nedzu and Michio were then free to sneak into and scurry around Garaki’s base, stealing plans, notes, star maps, and anything else they thought would be useful. And with the Force whispering in Mirai’s ear and her easy ability to pass info to the others, the five of them were soon flying away from the hellish planet with a burning hangar bay behind them.

“And you’re sure that it looks like a failed trap from one of the other kids, and that Garaki won’t know?” Orochi pressed.

“For the last kriffing time, yes!” Mana insisted, “Have a little damn faith in me here. I probably know how that bastard’s mind thinks better than anyone. He won’t suspect a thing.”

“I’m just making sure,” Orochi snarked, “Well, it’s been fun, but Michio and I need to bounce. Goodbye, don’t die too soon and all of that.”

“Where are you gonna’ go, short stack? We’re in the middle of hyper-drive blasting off to a planet who-knows-where in the Western Reaches. All because someone ‘had a good feeling’ about it.”

Mirai sighed. “Just. Trust in the Force, here. I know you don’t trust me, but can you at least trust the thing that got us out alive?”

“Fine,” Mana said pissily, “But don’t cry about it if it doesn’t work out.”

They spent most of the rest of the flight in silence, save for a few private conversations between Orochi and Michio, and Mirai and Nedzu. After a few days of fumbling their way through cohabiting a very small spaceship, they landed at the destination the Force led Mirai to, docked their ship amongst the other similar shady ships, and slinked into the cantina that Mirai recognized more than she was comfortable with.

The owner clocked the party in an instant, even though most of the other patrons didn’t. She stopped her work at the bar, took a double-take, and then ushered them over to a small, private table off in the corner.

“Well. It’s not every day people like you walk into my tavern,” said Maz Kanata, not even trying to hide the joy in her voice, “I’ve run this place for a millennium, and I can count on one hand how many have successfully changed their fate, and thus the fate of the universe, for the better. Good on you lot for achieving such a thing.”

“Thank you?” Michio said, glancing around at the others, “Can we… help you?”

Maz threw her head back and laughed. “No, boy. How can I help you? You’re in uncharted waters right now, and the ripples you will cause--oh, they will be glorious. But that will come later. You are children now, and don’t you argue about semantics, missy. Not when I’m pushing ten-thousand, and you can’t be mentally older than thirty.”

Mirai clicked her mouth shut and ignored the others’ confused looks. Maz picked up right where she left off.

“As I was saying, you’re children. Hurt children in need of help, care, and a good mind-healer. What do you think your best options are?”

“I-- I think I’m too old to be a Jedi,” Mirai confessed, “And I definitely don’t want to be a Sith.”

“Hm. That does complicate things, doesn’t it? Well, you’ve still got to learn how to get your powers under control, or you might just undo all your hard work. Tricky, tricky. What do the rest of you think?”

“I want to stay with Orochi!” Michio called, hugging the boy’s arm. Orochi nodded in agreement.

“I think I would be most comfortable staying with Mirai,” Nedzu said, to Mirai’s small amount of shock.

“And you, girl?” Maz asked, looking at Mana.

“Whatever keeps me away from Garaki,” she scoffed, before thinking about it a little more, and softly admitting, “I would like to see an ocean, though. That would be nice.”

Maz nodded at all of them before closing her eyes to think. “Well, I can’t give you all you wish this instant, but I can give you work, food, and a place to lay your heads until then. Now, chop-chop! Up you get! Those tables won’t bus themselves. Small boy, off to the kitchens with you. Mr. tooka-dog-bear-mouse, please head to my office and look over my books. The other three, get to work already.”

Too cowed to get a word in edgewise, the five of them scattered throughout the cantina in a rush to get to work, while Maz started nudging at the Force and worked on bringing the rest of the children’s family home.

*****

Present:

“How, the kriff, did you kill General Grievous?”

Normally, Toshinori would scold his fellow master for using such language in the presence of young ones, but he fundamentally had to agree.

How the kriff did less than a dozen Mandalorians achieve what hundreds of knights, even more bounty hunters, and even more Republic soldiers fail to do?

“It, ugh, wasn’t really that hard,” Sasaki admitted a little sheepishly. “The guy wasn’t even Force-sensitive. After a good levitation pin by Mana, Orochi pulled away all his sabers, I shot him with extreme prejudice, and it was over in less than five minutes. Honestly, the hardest part was baiting him into an isolated area and cutting out his communicators without him noticing. Which, we were able to do. Obviously. And now we would really, really like our 500,000-credit bounty, please.”

The gathered Jedi Masters looked at the Mandalorians in shock before Master Fisto pulled a pillow towards himself and promptly screamed into it.

“I… sorry?” Sasaki tried to apologize.

“Apologize, you should not. Just because the Jedi failed to think of a maneuver that padawans could successfully execute, does not mean anything wrong, you have done,” Yoda explained tiredly, “Disappointed, we are, in ourselves.”

“Do you have any similar tactics for Count Dooku, Darth Garaki, or the mystery Sith Master?” Master Kenobi asked dryly, “If you do, please, speak up. We would gladly hear them.”

“Not for Dooku, no. Or whoever the Sith Master is. But Garaki?” one of the other Mandalorians said, her voice dark, “Oh, we’ve got plans.”

“That’s assuming, of course, that he isn’t already dead,” Sasaki said. “I used Mana’s newest flash charges on him while he was trapped in an enclosed area with no viable exit.”

“How many charges?” a different Mandalorian asked.

“At least two dozen. Probably more.” The Mandalorians all stared at their leader. “I wanted to be thorough.”

“Well, sh*t,” a new Mandalorian said, and Toshinori was this close to giving out stupid nicknames, “If Garaki manages to survive that, I’ll actually applaud him. Damn. Overkill much, Mir’ika?”

“He kidnapped my ad. That is on top of what he did to me and my siblings when we were young. Nothing is overkill.”

There were a few nods before Master Windu called attention to those statements. “You have history with Darth Garaki?”

Sasaki sighed. “Yes. There was a program on the planet of Esibu. I, my sister, and my brothers were groomed from childhood by Garaki to become Sith Apprentices. We escaped when I was eleven.”

“And you didn’t come to the Jedi for help?”

A completely different Mandalorian snorted (based on the faint Force signature, Toshinori was mentally nicknaming them ‘Baker’ until further notice).

“I was eight years old, scared out of my mind, and thought the Jedi would be even worse than the Sith were because that’s what Garaki always taught us. We all did. So yes, we avoided you lot like a spice-smuggler in debt to the Hutts.” Baker huffed.

“You obviously don’t believe that now,” Kenobi pointed out, “Why avoid us then?”

Another Mandalorian (Toshinori would call them ‘Doctor’) shrugged, “By then, we were Mandalorians, and either adults or teenaged enough to think we were adults. And we heard about your dislike of attachments, and we are, if nothing else, very attached to each other. I wish whoever tries to separate our family the best of luck because they will need it.”

“Oh ka’ra, Nedzu alone would be horrible,” a third Mandalorian (‘Bomber’) said, “And for context, this is me saying that after I agreed to confront the man that tortured me for over a decade because my sister asked me to. Believe me when I say that Nedzu would be so much worse.”

The other Mandalorians made sounds of agreement.

“Well then, I commend you for thriving so after being dealt such a horrible hand,” Master Ti said, “We are concerned, however, about you and your siblings. Untrained Force-sensitives can easily sustain life-ending injuries, and while it sounds that you have at least a basic understanding of the Force, we would gladly offer you further guidance. Would you mind taking off your Force-dampening armor?”

Sasaki figited a bit. “Alright, that sounds… fair. But before we agree to anything, I want your word, all of your word, that we will not be imprisoned or harmed in any way. Call us paranoid, but we aren’t too keen on being trapped by another group who wants to use us for our unique abilities.”

“Our vow, you have. No harm will come to you, we swear.”

“Okay. I should warn you, though,” Sasaki said as she reached to take off her helmet, “I know it’s Sith-spotting one-oh-one, but I’ve got my eye color from genetics and nothing else.”

Under the helmet was a green and golden-haired woman, with a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and golden eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles. The second her helmet was away from her, a wave of information flooded into the Force. Kind, the Force whispered, kind, smart, mine, mine, mine. And then, softly, she-who-knows-the-future.

A Seer, then.

“I, similarly, have naturally golden eyes,” said Doctor who took off his helmet only for the Force to echo healer throughout the room.

“I don’t,” said Baker, and to Toshinori’s surprise, he felt nothing swirl through the Force at the removal of his helmet. “Force-null, at your service.”

“I,” the last woman said shakily, “Would very much like to remind the Council of their promise before they do anything.”

“Udesii, ori’vod,” Sasaki said, “We’ve got you.”

With shaking hands, the last Mandalorian took off her helmet to reveal dark brown eyes and matching hair. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but then the Force sang.

Scared-sister.

Young-protector.

Dark-no-longer.

Gray-light-light-gray.

Not-fallen.

Unbreakable.

Risen.

The Jedi Council stared in shock before Master Kenobi let out a weak laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll just--” She went to put her helmet back on before Kenobi stopped her.

“I am sorry, my dear, but it seems you’ve given us the impossible once more. Since the very beginning of this Order, never have we thought that a Dark Side-user could claw their way into the Light. You and your family are… full of surprises.”

But the greatest surprise was yet to come, as before the Jedi could process this galaxy-shaking occurrence, Knight Skywalker stepped through the Council doors.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Masters, but I was told to report to you immediately once I returned from the front, and--” Skywalker looked up from his datapad and met eyes with Sasaki, and if the Force sang before, then it roared now.

Family!

Oh-happy-day!

Children!

Mine-children!

Daughter!

Son!

Siblings!

Master Windu and Sasaki both winced as dozens of shatterpoints exploded across the room.

“Dank farrik,” Sasaki said, “It’s always something.

Chapter 5: The Jedi and the Mandalorian, Part Two

Chapter Text

12 Years Ago:

Maz has had Mirai and the others working for her for a few weeks now, and she still doesn’t know what the old woman is waiting on.

Mirai had not been a fan of the Star Wars sequels. Wait, no, that wasn’t entirely true. She had loved The Force Awakens and still had a soft spot for it even now. But the hard-to-ignore flaws of The Last Jedi and the absolute sh*tshow that was Rise of Skywalker had soured the entire trilogy for her.

(Why did they have to shaft Finn, Poe, and Rose? Why did they do nothing with Hux being a spy and just shoehorned it into the last movie with no obvious buildup? Why did Rey have no real friendship development with either Rose or Poe? Why were the defecting Stormtroopers, an aspect of the trilogy anticipated since the first goddamn trailer, only given two-and-a-half scenes if that? Why were the words ‘Somehow, Palpatine returned’ ever put onto the big screen? Mirai is going to f*cking scream.)

(Here’s a fact: nobody hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans do.)

Anyways.

Mirai wasn’t huge on the sequels, but she had a soft spot for The Force Awakens. And Maz Kanata was a part of that. She found the idea of an immortal, Eldritch bartender that was casually powerful in the Force and had a crush on Chewbacca absolutely charming. And beholding such a woman in real life was just as amazing as she thought.

Maz was somehow both blunt as hell and cryptic as f*ck. The others had lost patience with her antics days ago, but Mirai could only find amusem*nt in it. She kind of cheated, though. Maz spoke and acted similarly to how Mirai imagined the Force would act, if shoved into a mortal coil. And considering the fact that Mirai’s only relationships within the past eight years had been the Force’s warm acceptance and Garaki’s not-so-tender mercies, Mirai was pretty biased.

Regardless, though, Maz was funny, wise, and kind. She gave no sh*ts about taking sides in ‘petty galactic squabbles’ and welcomed anyone and everyone into her establishment. Minus slavers. Mirai didn’t know how, but Maz had a knack for sniffing out slavers, and often shot them first, asked their newly freed “cargo” later. She wasn’t too fond of those who stirred up trouble in her cantina, either. If Maz caught someone at it, she always did something in the Force that made Mirai know on a fundamental level that they would get their comeuppance at the most inconvenient of times. Luckily, though, the people that were rude to the wait staff for no reason, and the people that spread evil throughout the galaxy, were usually one and the same.

Mirai trusted Maz. The Force trusted Maz. But the others didn’t. And that caused some problems.

“For kriff’s sake,” Mana said that night, just as Maz was shooing the last few stragglers out of her place of business and Mirai and the others helped with closing, “How long is she expecting us to work here for pocket change before we go insane? There’s been dozens of smugglers, bounty hunters, and pirates willing to take us wherever we want to go. Why are we sitting on our asses out here not even knowing what or who, exactly, we’re waiting for?”

“I don’t think we’ll have to wait for much longer, Mana,” Mirai said, sweeping the floor, “Trust in the Force.”

Mana angrily slammed down the glass she was cleaning and glared at Mirai, golden eyes bright with fury. “Cut that blasted ‘trust in the Force’ kark. It’s nothing but bantha poodoo and you sound absolutely mad when you ramble on about it. The Force isn’t to blame for your gut instincts, the Force doesn’t have feelings or opinions, and the Force can’t kriffing talk. The Force is nothing but a tool for those powerful enough to use it, and you are nothing but a delusional little girl with an overactive imagination if you think otherwise.”

“Amazing,” Mirai retorted, stealing one of the two or three good lines from The Last Jedi. “Every word of what you just said, was wrong.”

(The Force, for Its part, nodded in agreement at Its Daughter’s words. It wasn’t a karking tool. It was, if anything, a very large tooka: mischievous, prone to causing problems on purpose, and more intelligent than It really had any right to be.)

(Case in point: the Force nudged Its Daughter’s new father a little bit forward and to the left, and then cackled.)

“Kriffing osik,” came a voice from behind Mirai, and she and others jumped and whirled around.

They all stopped what they were doing and stared at the man in full-plate armor. Mirai clocked it as Mandalorian based on the shape of the helmet and the colorful red, green, and blue paint decorating the metal. The man continued to swear and they continued to stare as Mirai felt a bolt of ice shoot down her spine.

She hadn’t sensed the man approaching.

None of them had sensed the man approaching.

And the only person she knew that was powerful enough to hide themselves like that had been Garaki.

And based on how Mana was now fiddling with the lightsaber at her side, Orochi looked a half-second away from grabbing Michio and bolting, and Nedzu’s growing snarl, they all realized it too.

Mirai let her gaze turn into a glare as the man regained himself and offered a little half-wave to them.

“Su cuy’gar,” the man said, ignoring the hostile environment, “Is Maz around?”

*****

Present:

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Buir said, looking around the chamber and taking note of the shocked looks plastered on all of the Jetiise’s faces, “Man’ika, Oro’ika, Mir’ika. Would you like to clue us in?”

Mirai let out a small, gasping breath. “I… the Force is… very insistent right now that the Jetii that just walked in is my--”

“Sister. Brother. You’re my sister, and I’m your… brother?” Anakin asked, voice and expression lost.

Mirai nodded. “Yeah. I, uhm, it’s nice to meet you?”

Anakin f*cking Skywalker (holy sh*t, holy sh*t, holy sh*t) awkwardly shuffled forward and extended his hand to shake. “You to?”

Mirai shook it, and immediately threw herself back and cradled her head, visions flashing behind her eyes and shatterpoints bursting in coordinated symphony.

From behind her, Mace Windu similarly cradled his head, but his gaze was sharp as he eyed Mirai. “You can see shatterpoints.”

“Yes,” Mirai said, wincing as another one burst at her answer.

“That is a very rare Force ability, Alor Sasaki, and a difficult one to manage, too. How did you learn to control your abilities?”

“I… I didn’t?” Mirai said, “I can see them, and I understand when my actions will lead them to break, but I don’t control shatterpoints. Shatterpoints aren’t something you can control. They just… are.”

“This, I believe, is what Master Ti meant when she said that it would be beneficial for all of us if you allowed us to teach you,” Obi-Wan said, “It is very obvious that while you are all powerful and talented in the Force, you have not had any formal training. Blind leading the blind, so to say?”

Orochi, Mana, and Mirai met eyes before hesitantly nodding.

“That would be a fair assessment, yes,” Orochi said, “The only teachings any of us have ever had with the Force are the lessons Garaki would force Mana, and occasionally myself, into attending. And those, we’ve had the good sense to either ignore completely or attempt to do the exact opposite of.”

Plo Koon nodded back. “With good reason, I imagine. I think it is safe to say that the three of you are a bit too old for the creche. Would you find it amicable if a few of us masters took you under our wings and helped you better learn about this aspect of yourselves?”

Before any of them could answer, a chill descended across the room. Mirai turned to see a myriad of emotions flash across Anakin’s face.

“I-- I apologize, masters. And esteemed guests. But I-- I just… can’t. I can’t.”

And with that, one of the best-known Jedi generals, the Hero Without Fear, turned tail and fled the Jedi Council chambers.

*****

12 Years Ago:

“Well,” the Mandalorian asked, “Is she?”

“She’s right here, Mr. Sanda,” Maz says, stepping in through the opposite door, “And in a good enough mood not to charge interest on the money you’re sure to borrow.”

“Come on, Maz, don’t be like that,” the man said, “You know my clan and I are good on our word. If we say we’ll pay you back, we’ll pay you back.”

“Hm. Yes, you aren’t in much of a habit of leaving I.O.Us. But regardless,” the cantina owner said, “The money isn’t going to help you any. Not when you’re stranded here with an unflyable vessel.”

“Oi! Just because The Underground is in need of some elbow grease doesn’t mean she’s unflyable.”

“Are you sure?” Maz asked, just as the man’s comm beeped, “I would check that if I were you.”

The Mandalorian grumbled and checked the message. “How did you-- no, of course you knew. Alright, forget the money. Do you know anywhere we can get a stabilizing coil for a reasonable price?”

Maz spread her arms wide and grinned. “My dear Mr. Sanda, you’re standing in one of the busiest pitstops in the galaxy. There’s bound to be someone who’ll eventually have the part you need. But I can’t board you for free and you don’t have the money for it, either. So. Where does that leave us, my friend?”

The man sighed. “You need extra security for the next few cycles or so?”

“Not particularly, but I’ll take it. And might I introduce you to a few of my other temporary hires?”

Mana, Orochi, and Nedzu snarled at the Mandalorian, still on high alert. Michio, not knowing why his friends were acting hostile all of a sudden, waved. Mirai, caught between being polite and being freaked the f*ck out, just stood there and continued to glare.

The Mandalorian was nonplussed. “Lovely to meet you all. I’m sure my daughter and her friends will get along with you splendidly.”

“Sure,” Mirai said dryly, “Quick question, do you work for or with Darth Garaki?”

“Do I work for who?”

“Mirai, what the kark are you doing?”

“The man who liked to torture us and kill our friends for kicks,” Mirai answered, ignoring Orochi’s question, “We just escaped him a little while ago, and I don’t think any of us are too ready to go back.”

The Mandalorian went very, very still. “There’s a demagolka that did what?! To children?!”

Overhead, a shatterpoint broke and sprinkled cosmic shards over Mirai. The Force cackled some more, like the horrible tooka it was. And the Mandalorian pulled out his comm again and spoke into it quietly, “Kunio, get up here. I may just have found our next hunt.”

*****

Present:

The meeting was quickly adjourned after Anakin’s outburst. Master Yagi offered to show the Mandalorians to the med bay and it was agreed that another meeting would be hosted where they could further discuss the matter of the Mandalorians’ training.

Obi-Wan stuck around long enough to be polite, but the moment he could, he rushed through the halls of the temple in search of his previous padawan. It takes a bit of searching, but eventually, Obi-Wan finds Anakin tucked in the corner of a small meditation room favored by his former padawan.

The sight brings back memories oh so similar to this. Ones where Anakin would hide away in this very room to avoid his lessons, or sulk about failing lightsaber forms, or to play around with droid parts in a calm environment.

Yes, this out-of-the-way meditation room is familiar to Obi-Wan, as is this sight. But never has Obi-Wan seen Anakin like this.

The confident, brash, playful companion he knows has been replaced with an absolutely broken man. He can’t hear Anakin’s quiet sobs, but he can see how they wrack up and down his body, shaking his padawan to his core. The Force sings around the room with pain and regret and sorrow, and he wants to reach out to Anakin and look away all at once.

Anakin-- bright, bold, blinding Anakin --seems small. Fragile. Hurt. And even though Anakin’s been a knight, a general, and a master in his own right for a while, he’s still Obi-Wan’s padawan.

And so Obi-Wan stays.

He steps into the meditation room in full and closes the door behind him, sure not to lock it. He won’t take the option of escape from Anakin, nor the option of Anakin forcing him to leave. This is about what Anakin needs right now, and Obi-Wan will adapt accordingly.

He sits opposite his padawan and opens himself up in the Force, all but shoving acceptance, love, and understanding into Anakin’s heart. Obi-Wan then closes his eyes and meditates, waiting for Anakin to make the next move.

It takes a long while, but eventually, the sobs taper off, and Anakin begins to speak.

“Before Master Jinn came to Tatooine, Mom and I worked in Watto’s shop. But before that, Mom was owned by the Hutts. Her secondary job was a mechanic, but her primary use was as a slave mother,” Anakin began slowly, his voice weak.

Obi-Wan felt himself go cold as his old padawan continued.

Anakin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I knew Mom had had kids before me. That’s the only way a slave stays alive in the Hutts’ hands. But she never spoke of them, always calling them hasar, missing. Mom always thought that they were culled or sold on and that she’d never see them again. Sith Hells, I was nearly culled because I was born so early. That’s why Watto was able to buy the both of us so cheap: there’s no place in the Hutts’ court for a mother slave who can bare no more children and the tiny runt who won’t live to see a year. But regardless of that, I never knew I had an older sister. I never thought of my hasar siblings as more than a hypothetical.”

“And now here one is.”

“And here one is, a Force-sensitive Mandalorian who killed General Grievous, and broke Master Yagi out of Darth Garaki’s clutches.”

Obi-Wan cracked a smile at Anakin’s words. “She seems quite the formidable woman, yes.”

A flash of pride rippled through the wall of shame-regret-sorrow still present in the Force, and Obi-Wan focused in on it. “And she seems still open to kindness and compassion. It’s hard to get a true read with her in all that beskar, but I know more than one Council member has questions about how she’s stayed so close to the Light without the Jedi Code to guide her.”

“What do you mean, Master?” Anakin’s question was riddled with curiosity and a small bit of defensiveness, so Obi-Wan continued lightly.

“From what Master Yagi and your sister have stated, it seems that she has a history with Darth Garaki. And when she fled his clutches, she ran straight into the arms of Mandalorians. Very traditional Mandalorians who value the life of a warrior, hunt criminals to support themselves, and wear Force-dampening metal all hours of the day.”

“You’re surprised she hasn’t fallen to the Dark Side under those circ*mstances?”

“Anakin, I’m surprised she’s sane. Your sister, she’s all but cut herself off from the Force by swearing the Resol’nare and wearing her armor. It’s a wonder that she can still face the Force at all, let alone cling to the Light. But somehow, she can. It speaks well of her strength of character that she hasn't been tempted to the Dark Side. Especially when we consider that Darth Garaki failed to groom her to his services and that her profession is to hunt, capture, and kill criminals. It makes the Council…"

Obi-Wan trailed off, and Anakin noticed his hesitation. "Don't tell me the Council thinks she's dangerous. All she's done is help us and return Jedi treasures. You said it yourself, she doesn't have a hint of the Dark Side touching her--"

"The Council doesn't think your sister is dangerous, Anakin. It's the opposite. The Council wonders what they, and the Order as a whole, can learn from Mirai." Obi-Wan hunched in on himself a little, slowly releasing some of his wild emotions into the Force. “We, as an Order, are living in unprecedented times. The Jedi haven’t served in a war for over ten thousand years, and it shows. You must have noticed the pain, the despair, the sorrow that leaks through every Jedi like poison. A poison we don’t know how to cope with, let alone treat. We are not meant to be warriors except as a last resort, but now we’re in a situation where we must lead an army of millions for the good of the Republic. But if Mirai and her fellows can show us a way to stick to our ideals without compromising our devotion to the Light… Anakin, that might just save us all.”

Anakin soaked up Obi-Wan’s words, thinking hard. “That seems like a big burden to place on people who are supposed to be our natural enemies.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Anakin. They’re not all bad. I myself had a few Mandalorian friends during my padawan years. In fact, the Council has asked me to assist Master Yagi in ‘taking point’ with our guests, so to say. And they won’t say no if I ask you to join me.” Obi-Wan rose from his sitting position and extended a hand to Anakin. “What do you say? Would you like to properly meet your sister?”

His old padawan considered his offered hand before reaching out and taking it. “Yeah. I think I would.”

(A few floors below them, Mirai winced as yet another shatterpoint split and crumbled to pieces. It added to the already incredible headache that was building behind her eyes, and she winced as Orochi pulled up the clones’ scans to show Master Che, pointing out the ‘early-stage tumors’ brought about by Kamino’s ‘reckless and inefficient rapid aging process.’)

(Nearly a billion chips found in just as many clones. Over ten thousand Jedi saved before Order 66 could take place. Hundreds of planets and their respective trillions of citizens saved from a dragged-out, pointless war. And a shatterpoint burst with each life spared.

Mirai better get the good stuff when she inevitably caves and asks for headache medicine. She f*cking deserves it.)

*****

12 Years Ago:

Mana is so kriffing done.

The Mandalorians invaded the cantina going on four weeks ago, and it seems that none of the others are smart enough to see through them. Maz may have criticized Mana for her short-sighted plan of grabbing a smuggler and/or pirate and having them take Mana away, but at least with the criminals, what you see is what you get. Mana would’ve seen the inevitable back-stabbing coming, and hey, if they were smart enough to shut up and do what Mana told them, then even better. But no. The rest of Garaki’s f*ck-ups are convinced that not only are the Mandalorians not a threat, but that they are also kind, and genuine, and a bunch of other fake-sounding adjectives that Mana knows don’t exist in the real galaxy.

(Kindness and genuinity died with Nali, and nothing is going to change that, even if Mana could kill Auros and Garaki again and again and again and again and a--)

So, no. Mana has not been charmed by Kunio and Ranto, who claim that they are members of the same clan and are willing to adopt them all. Mana has not befriended Nariko, Chieko, and Tenri, who Mirai and Micho continue to smile at. Mana has stood firm in her belief that the Mandalorians are bad karking news, and if the others are too stupid to figure that out, then fine. Mana will just have to watch their backs and save their skins later.

(Mana doesn’t know when she decided that she liked Garaki’s four f*ck-ups that escaped with her. It probably happened sometime between Mirai returning Nali’s saber, Orochi healing her ear until it stopped ringing for hours on end, Nedzu teaching her how to count cards, and Michio baking her something called a ‘cookie’. Regardless, Mana has decided that Garaki’s four f*ck-ups are now her four f*ck-ups, and if someone tries to f*ck them up, Mana will drive her lightsaber up their ass and through the back of their throat.)

“You seem a bit tense,” came Kunio’s voice from behind her.

“How many kriffing times do I have to tell you to stop doing that, old man?” Mana snarled. Stars, she hated when they did that. It felt unnatural. Every living thing should release their emotions into the Force. To do otherwise made them feel like droids. Or undead zombies from a bad holo-film. Ugh.

“Sorry,” Kunio said. “Why don’t you take a lunch break, kid? The others are missing you.” He nodded his helmeted headtoward where Mirai, Michio, and Orochi were sitting across from Nariko, Chieko, and Tenri. She saw Nedzu pop his head up from where he was seated in Mirai’s lap, and he caught her eye and nodded.

‘They are safe. Are you?’

Mana nodded back.

‘I’m fine. Stay vigilant.’

“I’m not hungry,” Mana said, ignoring the man’s suggestion, “Why don’t you stop pretending to care and f*ck off?”

To her annoyance, the man just chuckled. “You are exactly the kind of kid buir told me I deserved. Damn him, he’s laughing at me from the stars.”

“Good,” Mana gritted out before returning to the dishes she had been cleaning. “Is there something else, or…”

“There’s a… thing your siblings and us figured out,” the man said slowly, “About why you’re all jumpier than a herd of Pamaridian prancers.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

In response, the man removed his helmet.

And…

“Oh,” Mana said, blinking as she was hit with a wave of compassion, warmth, and the barest hints of something she hadn’t felt since Nali. “That’s ah--”

“Pretty strong emotions for someone only pretending to care?”

“Yes, I guess they are. But feelings can’t always be trusted.”

“True. But good, old-fashioned arms may be a little more reliable.”

The man passed Mana a blaster and gestured for her to take it. “Do you know how to use one of these things?”

“They aren’t my preferred weapon.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to teach you.”

“And why’s that? Is my lightsaber suddenly going to stop working?”

Kunio gave Mana a hard look. “If you ever believe for a moment that I or Ranto will ever harm you or your siblings, I want you to use that gun to kill us.”

Mana almost dropped the weapon in surprise. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“You’re a kid who’s been hurt, and who’s seen the others be hurt. And you don’t trust us. So, we can deal with that in two productive ways, one for the short term, and one for the long term. Firstly, for the short term, you should arm yourself against us. Learn how to use that weapon well, and continue to monitor us and our behavior. The moment you think we will cause direct harm, shoot us, take your siblings, and run. But, for the long-term: stay with us and our family. Learn our intentions for yourself. Learn about our ways of life and adopt them if you wish. And, if the day ever comes that you believe you can truly trust us, tell us, and return that blaster.”

Mana gripped the gun a little tighter before glancing between it and the man. “Keep your helmet off as much as possible, Kunio, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Glad we could come to an agreement, ad’ika. Now, let’s get some grub.”

*****

Present:

Mana drummed her fingers against the side of her buir’s gifted blaster, absent-mindedly following Yagi into the ginormous library.

“And this is the main room of the Jedi Archives,” the Jetii said, “It is one of the largest, most thorough, and most complete archival collections in the entire galaxy, with artifacts spanning from millions of cultures and tens of thousands of years.”

Michio gave an impressed whistle. “Damn. Mirai would absolutely love this.”

“We’ll be sure to tell her when she’s not laid out dying in a med bay,” Ranto’buir said, “Are we free to look around, Yagi, or do you need to be a Jetii to gain access?”

“Knowledge is meant to be shared,” Yagi answered, “Feel free to explore. Although, I would recommend sticking to the hollo-pads, and not the more delicate artifacts. Madame Nu would have all our hides if something happened to her life’s work.”

“You fear the librarian?” Kunio’buir asked, “That’s wise. Why don’t we give ourselves a few minutes to explore before we return to Mir’ika?”

“I’m afraid that will not be possible at this time,” came a voice. The group turned to see an older woman with impeccable robes and hair sticks crossed in her neat bun. “I regret to inform you that the whole temple is on high alert. I cannot allow you to leave this room until we receive the all-clear signal.”

“Is everything alright, Madame Nu?” Yagi asked, “Am I needed elsewhere?”

“No, Master Yagi. You may stay with your guests. Possible intruders are being investigated, but there is no need to panic at this time.”

“And what of our alor, her vod, and her ade?” Tenri asked, “They are not with us.”

“Where would they be?”

“The med bay. Mirai was getting the beginnings of a migraine and needed to lie down, her two sons remained with her, and Orochi was having a deep conversation with Master Che.”

“Then I assure you, they will be more than safe. The healing halls have the highest level of fortification, second only to the creche. In the meantime, enjoy the resources of the archives. The catalog and many virtual resources are available on the personal computers scattered throughout the library. Happy reading.”

The moment the librarian walked away, Mana’s family scattered. Chieko grabbed Nariko and Tenri and made a mad dash to a catalog. Michio followed at a leisurely pace, mumbling to himself about recipes. Mana’s two buire made eye contact from behind their helmets before pulling Yagi to the side for some light interrogation disguised as polite conversation, leaving Mana to explore the shelves by herself.

She made a perimeter around the room, trying to spot any weaknesses in its integrity. If there truly were intruders, and the library truly was as expansive as the Jetiise claimed, then Mana wouldn’t put it past a few foolhardy thieves to try their luck at breaking in here. In the end, she couldn’t find a chink in the proverbial armor, but she did find a distressed teenager despairing over a mountain of holos and flimsi.

“Ah!” The teenaged Togruta jumped out of her seat, reaching for her lightsaber. “Who are you? Are you an intruder?”

“Nayc. I am a guest. My family and I had business with the Jedi Council but were invited to stay longer after some… unforeseen events took place. I am Mana, of Clan Badger and House Kast.”

“I am Padawan Learner Ahsoka Tano.”

“What troubles you so, Padawan Learner Ahsoka Tano?”

“I, ugh… so it might, technically, be classified.”

“Be vague, then.”

And so the teenager spent a good twenty minutes almost breaking down on Mana, explaining how she had made the wrong call in battle, refused to follow orders, put her men at risk, and forced her master to come pick her up in an evacuation ship like a disappointed father coming to pick up his daughter after she bit the ref in her little league grav-ball game.

“And now my master might get rid of me because I karked up so badly and then I won’t be able to see Rex, or Kix, or Jesse again, and I--”

“Hold it, hold it, hold it,” Mana said, “Calm yourself, ad’ika. What makes you think your, ah, master would get rid of you?”

“I recklessly risked my men’s, my friends’, lives. And Skyguy, he didn’t even want me in the first place--”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because when I was dropped off on Christophis, my master didn’t even know I was supposed to be his padawan. He thought I would be learning under his master.”

“Okay,” Mana said. “So he thought he was getting a sibling, not a youngling of his own, and he was shocked and unprepared. Did he ever warm up to the idea? To you?”

“By the end of that first few days, he said that I would’ve struggled to be his master’s padawan, but that I would be perfect for him.”

Mana nodded. Good, the man had adapted to surprise fatherhood and decided to step up like any good parent. That was a good sign.

“So he’s been good to you since then?”

The Togruta nodded. “Yeah.”

“So why, again, do you believe he’ll get rid of you just because you made a mistake?”

“Because it’s not the first time I’ve made a mistake. I karked up so bad back on Ryloth, and then I go do this. And we butt heads a ton, and we argue.”

“Oi, did he drop you after your kark-up on Ryloth?”

“No.”

“Did he drop you after a super bad argument?”

“No.”

“Then you’re fine, kid. Was Ryloth worse than this new mistake?”

The girl nodded.

“Then I doubt this’ll be the thing to push him over the edge.”

The teen still didn’t look convinced, and Mana knew she had officially run out of assurances. So, she moved on to the next stage of helping someone get out of their own head: distractions.

“Hey, what’s the most banned part of the archives?”

“The holocron vault, I guess.”

“Alright, cool. I’m going to break into it.”

“What?! No!”

“Try and stop me, then!”

Mana raced off, not technically running (she knew better than to piss off a librarian), but valiantly speed-walking away. The Force encouraged her antics, nudging her this way and that, until she rounded a final row of holo-cases, the girl hot on her heels.

“Stop! You ca-- oof.”

Mana pulled Ahsoka back behind a case and gestured for her to be quiet.

“What? Why are you--”

Mana poked her head out around the cases and looked towards the vault door. There was a table full of computers sitting empty in front of it. All except one, which had the madame librarian sitting at it, and the body of another madame librarian passed out barely a few feet away.

“What’s going on? Who is that?”

“Changeling. One apparently dumb enough to leave their mark right out in the open.”

“That’s the holocron vault. You don’t think they could be trying to steal one, do you?”

“Maybe. You got your weapon, still?”

The Togruta nodded and held up her lightsaber. Mana pulled out Kunio’s blaster in turn, setting it to stun. “On my signal. One, two--”

Mana and the girl rounded the corner together. Mana shot first, but the changeling dodged the round and twisted out of their chair. Mana leaped out of the way just in time for the Togruta girl to block to intruder’s stolen lightsaber. The changeling raced off, the young Jetii in pursuit. Mana was about to follow them but then thought better of it and checked the computer instead. She was glad she did so as the muted comm links, virtual map of the building, and various questionable tabs made it very, very clear that the changeling had accomplices.

The sound of blades being crossed came closer, and Mana pulled out her gun again. The changeling, still disguised as the madame librarian, was being pushed back by the Togruta girl, who was much more skilled in lightsaber combat than the changeling. Sure enough, the changeling disengaged first, turning off their saber and running away from the girl and back towards Mana. They weren’t paying attention, though, and Mana pushed the chair in their path. They tried to reroute at the last moment, but it was already too late. The changeling dove head-first to the floor, and Mana stunned them with her blaster. Once they were knocked out cold, they shifted out of the librarian’s appearance and back to their natural state.

“If the body laying right there didn’t give it away, their fighting form would’ve,” the teen said, breathing hard, “They may have had Madame Jocasta’s face, but not their skill. Besides, everyone knows that Madame Jocasta’s primary weapon is the lightsaber rifle, not the lone saber.”

Mana snapped her head to look at her. “Lightsaber rifle?” she asked in delight.

“Yeah! My master says one of those bad boys can shoot down full battleships! But they’re super costly and you have to swipe out the kyber crystal every, like, five shots. Not really worth it. That’s why Madame Nu is helping with the logistics of the war rather than leading on the front lines.”

“Do you think I could examine one of those rifles? It sounds like the rifle is drawing power from the kyber, which is why it’s dying so quickly. But if you could substitute that with some choice powercells-- Wait, hold it. Talk tech later,” Mana said, shaking her head, “There are other intruders. It looks like the changeling was directing them from here and finding ways to get into the safe. Do you know how to open the holocron vault? Without me breaking into it, that is?”

“Only Masters on the Council have access.”

“Would Yagi be on that list?”

“Master Yagi? Yeah, he would.”

“Good. He was our chaperone and should still be in here because of the lockdown. Find him quick and get him back here so we can open this vault.

The girl nodded and sped off. Mana pulled out some cuffs, secured the changeling, drew her blaster again, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It was only a few minutes of waiting, but Mana was getting antsy. The Force whispering in her ear and encouraging her to break into the safe wasn’t helping.

“Do you have to encourage my bad behavior?” she asked it. The Force gave her a bit of a shove towards the mechanical lock in response. “Fine, then. I guess I can at least check to make sure it isn’t compromised.”

Mana bent down and looked at the lock. It was unlike any she had seen before, with no place to insert a key of some sort, no technology to scan a card or a pass, and no keypad to punch in a combination. She looked at it, poked it a bit, and found that the fancy design where a keyhole should be was movable.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” Mana asked the Force. The Force gave her another shove and Mana sighed and raised her hand, letting the Force guide her. Sure enough, once she pulled, pushed, and spun the lock in the perfect direction, the vault door opened.

“I need to talk to the Jetiise about their security,” Mana muttered.

She took a few cautious steps in, blaster raised. As she expected, there was another intruder already in the vault, a blasted hole in the wall his obvious entrance route. But what she didn’t expect was who the man was.

Mana shot the blue bastard with a vengeance, stunning him a few dozen times before he could even unholster a gun to defend himself, the soon-to-be stolen holocron in hand. She grabbed the holocron, cuffed him, and then dragged the son-of-a-bitch’s body out of the vault. Yagi, the togruta kid, and her family found her a few minutes later with the holocron in one hand, and her blaster pointed at the two mercenaries in the other.

“This belongs to you, Yagi,” she said, tossing him the fancy cube, “And that belongs to us.”

Her vod, her friends, and her buire snarled down at the scum of Duro that called himself a gun for hire. They all drew weapons of their own as Kunio’buir kicked the unconscious man in the stomach and rolled him over so his body was staring face-up.

“Hello, Bane. We’ve got a score to settle.”

*****

Mirai groaned into her pillow as Orochi and Master Che continued to discuss the ‘tumors.’ She had her suspicions about what, exactly, those ‘tumors’ were, but she wasn’t about to jump between the two medical professionals and insert her uneducated opinion.

“Most medical facilities on the field are entirely barebones and managed by squad-assigned clone medics. The MediCorps have been assigned to most relief-aide programs and monopolized by the Republic citizens rather than Republic troops.”

“But what happens when clone troopers are severely injured in a way that front-line healers simply wouldn’t have the tools, time, or proper facilities to assist them?”

“If they are well enough, they are sent back to Kamino to be healed. The Kaminoans have assured us in the past that no expense is spared on the clones’ behalf, but if they were covering up something like this…” Master Che trailed off in thought, “It is at times like this that I wish we had access to the clones’ medical records, rather than the snippets attached to their military forms.”

“Why don’t you?” Orochi asked, “And if not you, at least the field medics? History of past injuries, especially concussions, can greatly impact the steps one needs to take for future healing.”

“I know. And we have demanded them. Multiple times, in fact. But the Kaminoans have claimed that it was--”

“--a matter of intergalactic security?”

“Exactly.”

“Hmmm. Mir’ika.”

“Don’t make me think right now, Orochi,” Mirai begged, “I’m trying to die in peace, here.”

“I’m in need of legal counsel, and Nedzu’s not here. Please assist me.”

Mirai sat up in her cot, cradling her head. “You have approximately two minutes before the lighting makes me puke. Be quick.”

“Can the Kaminoans argue that medical history is a matter of intergalactic security, or do they not have a right?”

“Complicated. In the case of an entire clone army, where one clone’s medical records being leaked could mean that the enemy would have a blueprint of almost every soldier’s strengths and weaknesses, then yes. But in this instance where the withholding of medical information is costing the lives and well-being of millions of people, then no. Depends on who’s arguing which side and how sympathetic the judge is.”

“Hmmmmmmm. Can you think of any loopholes?”

“Are the clones sentient beings?” Mirai asked.

Master Che bristled. “Without a doubt.”

“Does the Republic recognize them as such?”

“No,” she spat, enraged, “And trust us, we’ve been arguing against that ruling since we learned of the clones’ existence.”

“Alright, if they aren’t legally sentient, then someone must technically own them. Who owns them?”

“That’s an even more complicated question than the last. It has been claimed that Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas initially commissioned the army on account of his dark visions of the future.”

“How strong were these visions?” Orochi asked.

“Very strong. He was officially branded a Seer during his creche days.”

“So just like Mirai.”

“I resent that. You don’t see me enslaving millions of clones just because I had a few bad daydreams.”

“As I was saying,” Master Che interrupted, “Sifo-Dyas reportedly commissioned the army, but as the man has been dead for over a decade and the accounts used to pay were unmarked and showed no dealings with any Jedi accounts, that is suspect at best. After Geonosis, the Republic took to funding the army and was responsible for all clones created after a certain batch. Kamino, however, has claimed that the clones are intellectual property and that they alone can properly upkeep the clones.”

It was Mirai’s turn to hum in thought. “Has the Republic ever allotted funding for the Jedi to use, similar to how a normal government program would?”

“To preserve our autonomy, no. But many Jedi missions are commissioned by the Republic or the senate, and occasionally certain supplies or extra funds are donated if one mission becomes extremely long-running or dangerous.”

“Define long-running?”

“Six months or more.”

Mirai nodded. “How were the Jedi recruited for the war? Was it a draft? Orders from the Chancellor? Voluntary? Please tell me it wasn’t voluntary and you’re fighting a goddamn war pro bono.”

“Specialty mission as commissioned by the Chancellor.”

“Good. And how are you being paid?”

“Someone, somewhere in the Jedi accounting branch is keeping track of how much the Order is due. We’re closing in on nearly ten billion credits, last I heard.”

“What?!”

“The Chancellor commissioned the entire Jedi Order for a potentially deadly, long-running mission. That’s over ten thousand Jedi Knights, over a thousand padawans, and hundreds of various Jedi specialists working around the clock, traveling to thousands of worlds, and being placed in deadly situations day after day. Do you honestly think that wouldn’t result in the largest bill ever issued?”

Mirai and Orochi both gaped. “I… damn. Just, damn. Have you seen a single credit yet?”

Master Che shook her head. “We agreed to hold off until the end of the war to cash it. Everyone in the know has already resigned themselves to the fact that we are going to bankrupt the Republic.”

“And this is the important part here, the clone troopers do not count as part of that bill, right? They’re just donations from the Republic to make your truly expensive mission easier?”

“Yes. As slavery is illegal, we cannot be paid in clones.”

“Okay,” Mirai nodded. “You can tell Kamino to kriff off with that ‘intellectual property’ kark. They were paid by Sifo-Dyas and later the Republic, they don’t own a single hair on a clone’s head the second they are shipped off and placed under Jedi care. Now, there can be two arguments for who ‘owns’ the clones: the Jedi, or the Republic. If it’s the Jedi, then you have full legal rights to view the clones’ unredacted medical files, full-stop. There’s nothing the Kaminoans can do to stop you, and if they try, you have full rights to sue.”

“And if it’s the Republic?”

“Then it gets a bit harder. As protected Republic property, they can deny your rights to view the medical files. But if that happens, then you start hounding the Republic officials. Hound the senators; hound the medical branches; hound the Chancellor. Make it abundantly clear that if you continue to be denied, you will personally blame them for every bad thing that happens to the army because they refused you vital information needed to keep the troops healthy. This argument will be very effective against politicians sympathetic to the clones, and it will be extremely effective against politicians whose planets were or are protected by the clones. There are very, very few people in wartime who want an unhealthy army.”

Master Che nodded. “A sound plan overall. Is the migraine getting any better?”

“Worse,” Mirai said with a whimper, laying back down.

“Come on, Mir’ika, put your helmet back on, that’ll help a bit,” Orochi said, passing it to her, “There you are. Is there any medicine available for migraines this bad? Shatterpoint-induced migraines?”

“We have some on file for Master Windu, but it is extremely potent. I would have to calculate a proper dose. Alor Sasaki, do you consent to having your blood drawn so we can determine the right amount of medicine you need, and maybe run a few other medical tests?”

“Yes,” Mirai said, “And can you run a few similar tests for Tenko and Keigo? Orochi should have the, the…. Ughhhhh…..”

“What my delirious sister is trying to say is that we’ve wanted to run full physicals on both of the boys for a while, but we have yet to find medical facilities that were within our price range and that we could fully trust. Considering how we found both of them, I suspect there could be some longer-lasting health issues if we cannot diagnose them and begin treatment now.”

“That can easily be done. I’ll leave you to your rest.”

Mirai tried to curl up again, her helmet pressing down on the pillow. She felt another shatterpoint break, this time belonging to Mana rather than Orochi, and she barely held back another whimper.

Someone just kill her already. This was not worth it.

*****

Yagi stared at the two cuffed criminals and the Mandalorians’ vicious reactions to the Duros. “I take it you have history with this man?”

“This mir’osik is the bastard that stole Tenko from us and handed him over to Garaki.”

More insults and swears came from the Mandalorians, and every last one of them pulled a blaster and pointed it at the downed man.

“But why’s he here?” Padawan Tano asked, “He went after the holocron, but for what?”

Yagi examined the holocron that had been thrown at him and felt his eyes widen in shock. “This is the youngling holocron. It contains a list of every documented Force-sensitive child known to the Order.”

“The blue bastard continues to go after children. Why am I not surprised?” the Baker Mandalorian asked, “Can we kill him? Pretty please?”

“Mir’ika has first dibs as both alor and as the guardian of the offended child. We have to wait for her call.”

Yagi could almost hear the younger warrior’s pout.

“Let’s all head to the healing halls and discuss things further. I shall summon my fellow masters, you can drag the intruders, and Padawan Tano, if you could please rouse Madame Nu?”

The group completed their assigned tasks and Yagi corralled the party to the healing halls, where they were met with Master Che and the Doctor Mandalorian animatedly discussing something, a fully-armored Sasaki laid out on a cot with her two sons sleeping beside her, and a few masters waiting for them.

“Never a dull day for you, eh, Toshinori?” Torino asked.

“It seems trouble likes to follow me, yes,” he agreed. “Master Windu, Master Yoda, Master Koon, Master Mundi. Thank you for meeting me here so quickly.”

“Thank you as well, we do. The two intruders, you have brought us. Escaped, we thought they did after their droid assistant self-destructed in the communications tower.”

“It was Padawan Tano and one of our Mandalorian associates that caught them. They were trying to steal this.”

Toshinori passed the holocron to Master Windu, who raised an eyebrow and then bowed in thanks to the Mandalorians. “It seems our Order owes you an even greater debt than we first thought. You have protected the future of our institution.”

“It was no problem. But buff up your--”

“Snips!” cried a voice from the entrance of the wing, and Knight Skywalker ran into the room with Master Kenobi at his heels.

“Skyguy!” Padawan Tano shouted in reply. The two met in a strong embrace before separating.

“Are you alright? Obi-Wan and I were hunting down the intruders in the vents. Didn’t even know they were going for the vault in the archives. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“I’m fine. The Mandalorians were a big help. And besides, the criminals were caught, so all’s well that ends well, right?”

“Oh. He’s your master? The one you were worried about dumping you?”

“Ahsoka, is that true?” Anakin exclaimed, “Why would you even think that? I would never repudiate you.”

“But I messed up so badly on Felucia, and not even to mention Ryloth--”

“No, Snips, no. Felucia was my fault. I was the one that got caught up and forgot how young you still are. You were leading a scouting patrol; it never should have come to blows, and once it did, I should have gotten to your location as soon as I could. And we’ve already talked about Ryloth, yeah? You karked up, but you’ve learned from it, so you know not to make the same mistakes. That’s how you grow as a person and as a leader, Snips. Let yourself learn from and grow past your mistakes.”

“Damn. Looks like the parenting gene is pretty strong in Mirai’s bloodline,” said a Mandalorian that Toshinori hadn’t nicknamed yet.

“It’s rude to talk about others behind their backs, you know.”

“She lives!” the Mandalorian cheered.

“Barely. But this sounds like a pretty important conversation.”

“Speaking of,” Master Che passed Sasaki some pills and a glass of water. Sasaki tilted up her helmet, popped the pills in her mouth, slammed back the drink, and then pulled the helmet back down. “That should take into effect in about half an hour. Inform someone immediately if you begin to feel dazed, drowsy, or have any symptoms of intoxication.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sasaki said, “Mana, you were saying something?”

“Yes. Please improve the security of your vault. I was able to unlock it in seconds, once I figured out I just needed to use the Force.”

“Discover the holocron vault, you have, hm? Interesting, did you find the contents?”

“I don’t know, I was a little too preoccupied with shooting my clan’s secondary mortal enemy.”

“I agree with her, Masters. Why is a vault only open to the Council so easily accessible?”

To the padawan’s shock, all of the knights and masters began to chuckle at her words.

“Oh, yes. The restricted holocron vault. I was about seventeen when I first broke into it. What about the rest of you?” Master Kenobi asked.

“Fourteen,” Master Koon admitted.

“Sixteen,” said Master Windu.

“I was on the later side,” Master Mundi explained, “Twenty-two, about a month before my knighting.”

“Twelve,” Master Che said.

“Fifteen,” Yagi said with a smile.

“Seventy-nine,” Master Yoda said. “The first one to ever do so, I was. Many hours of saber practice, Master Fey gave me.”

“I was nine. I was at the temple for about three weeks before my curiosity got the better of me,” Knight Skywalker said with a chuckle.

Padawan Tano blinked in surprise. “What?”

“The ‘forbidden’ holocron vault is a test to most padawans about overcoming temptation and the draw to forbidden knowledge,” Master Kenobi began to explain to his grandpadawan, “They soon find, though, that the knowledge they seek is harder to find than the first thought. Holocrons cannot be opened unless you are powerful with the Light Side of the Force. And even then, most are incomplete, with their information crystals being guarded by Knights assigned to the job. This holocron, for example, will only reveal its knowledge if it is paired with the crystal guarded by Master Ropal, who is currently somewhere in the Mid-Rim.”

“So no children were actually at risk?” Sasaki asked.

“Oh, no. The danger was very real. But there were safeguards in place to ensure that no children could be immediately harmed by any folly on our end.”

“Well. Then I guess keep doing what you’re doing. Anyways, can we please kill Cad Bane?” Bomber-Mandalorian asked.

“No,” Master Windu said.

“Hey, if you don’t want us to murder in your temple, we can take him elsewhere and dump his corpse after if you need us to.”

“That wasn’t necessarily the problem,” Master Mundi explained, “I assume we would like to interrogate the two intruders to discover more about their employer. And then turn them over to the proper authorities?”

There were dramatic, disappointed sighs from the Mandalorians. “Fine. Follow the law like a bunch of losers.”

“Thank you, we will. If that’s settled, Master Che, do you have any additions before we discuss the Council’s plans?”

“Yes. Sasaki, we ran through your and your sons’ bloodwork. Congratulations to yourself and Knight Skywalker; you share twenty-five percent of your DNA. I think it’s safe to assume that you are not grandparent and grandchid, so congratulations on discovering either your half-sibling or your full-bloodied aunt/uncle or niece/nephew.”

Sasaki and Skywalker shared an awkward look and a little wave.

“Hi. Do you know any good diners we can sit down and catch up at?” Sasaki asked.

“I’ve got a few in mind,” Skywalker said, blinking back a few tears. “Do you… remember anything of Tatooine? Of Mom, or whoever Dad was?”

“No.” Sasaki shook her head. “My first memory was of Garaki’s labs. I’m going to need you to fill me in.”

“I think I’d like that.”

“Moving on,” Master Che said, cutting off the stilted but warm conversation, “Keigo is a fourth-generation Rishii-human hybrid. He will need to eat a more carnivorous diet, but not many true adjustments health-wise. And Tenko…” Here Master Che trailed off before eyeing Torino and Yagi. “There was a DNA match with Tenko.”

“Oh! Are there still living relatives somewhere?”

“No,” Master Che continued cautiously, “But there was a match with a pasted Jedi on file. Master Shimura.”

Yagi’s brain shut down. “That’s my master’s son?!”

“No,” Master Che said, “That’s your master’s grandson. Her son, according to our files, died a few months ago. Neither Master Shimura nor her husband had any other living relatives.”

“Master Shimura’s what?!” Knight Skywalker shouted, drawing all attention to him.

“Her son? Kotaro Shimura--”

“No, not that! The other thing! Master Shimura was secretly married?”

“No. I met my master’s husband plenty of times. They were a rather lovely couple.”

“Jedi,” Skywalker emphasized, “Can get married? Legally?!”

“Anakin,” Master Kenobi said slowly, “Master Mundi has four wives.”

It was now Skywalker’s turn for his brain to shut down. The shellshocked knight collapsed into an empty cot, looking very much like his entire world-view was being altered in real-time. “Jedi can get married, holy sh*t. Why was I never told this?”

“It’s a basic fact that most children are taught in the creche,” Kenobi snarked, “I didn’t realize it was something you needed to be told.”

“Oh, you mean the creche I was never a part of because I came to the temple when I was nine and you took me on as a padawan immediately?” Skywalker snarked back.

“And why does it matter so much that Jedi can or cannot get married?”

Skywalker looked away in embarrassment. “So. Hypothetically. If a Jedi were to get secretly married a few days after their knighting, would they be in trouble?”

Master Windu smiled as the rest of the Council members groaned. “Pay up. I told you he and Amidala tied the knot.”

“You knew?! And were running bets?!”

“Anakin, I love you with my whole heart, but you are not subtle.”

“But-- bah-- ugh! Master!”

“Can we get back on track, please?” Sasaki asked, turning to Master Che, “What does that mean for Tenko?” she asked, gesturing to the still-sleeping boy.

“Not much. There’s a possibility that your son may have inherited Master Shimura’s famous mobility, but other than that, it only means so much as you let it mean.”

Sasaki turned to Yagi and Torino. “Were there certain cultural customs that his grandmother liked to follow? Jedi or non-Jedi, whatever you think should be passed on.”

“There were a few that I can think of,” Yagi allowed, “Would you allow your sons to stay in the temple for a time so they can learn them?”

“I…” Sasaki said hesitantly, “I think I’ll leave that decision up to them. I promised myself that if they ever wanted to follow the Jedi path, I’d be ready to let go and support their decision.”

“It wouldn’t be a time to let go. Not in the traditional sense, at least. Especially if the rest of their family is already staying.”

“Come again?” Sasaki asked, turning towards Master Windu.

“You, your brother, and your sister are all extremely powerful in the Force. We could sense it very easily in the Council chamber. Master Che tells us that she ran a midi-chlorian count earlier. What were the results of that?”

“Tenko has a count of ten thousand midi-chlorians per cell. Keigo has a count of roughly nine thousand. Sasaki, you have a count of twenty thousand per cell, a tie for the most ever recorded. The person you are tied with is, of course, your half-brother, Knight Skywalker.”

“Again, as we said earlier, you are strong in the Force but lack proper training. The Council has decided that if you wish it, you and your clan are free to stay in the Temple to receive some basic training. Any non-Force-sensitive clansmen may also stay and access Jedi resources, including the archives and any other facilities they think they can put to use.”

Sasaki looked to her family. “That’s a big offer.”

“Question! Can this training help my ori’vod properly manage her migraines?” Baker-Mandalorian asked.

“Potentially, yes.”

The Baker nodded. “We’re staying.”

“Michio!”

“Mirai! Right now, the only way Orochi can heal your migraines is to either knock you out for an entire cycle or to drug you so far to the gills that you start tasting colors. That’s not healthy!”

“I’ve been managing them just fine on my own for years.”

“No, you’ve been suffering silently through them for years. That’s very far from fine. You are going to learn from the very nice Jetiise, or so help me, I will stage a coup right now and order you to.”

Sasaki grumbled.

“I would like to learn more about healing with the Force from those professionally trained to do so,” the Doctor Mandalorian cut in.

“It would also be good for the kids to learn this stuff in a way that isn’t, you know, complete guesswork,” Bomber Mandalorian pointed out.

Sasaki grumbled some more before turning back to the Council. “How will this work, exactly?”

“Keigo and Tenko will be admitted temporarily into a creche clan where they will be able to learn simple Force exercises and philosophy with those their age. You and your family will be free to visit them, of course. You, Orochi, and Mana will also be put under the tutelage of a Council member who can act as your temporary Jedi Master. They would treat you as they would their own padawan and help you develop your individual skills. In return, it would be helpful if you could advise the Order on how you could so easily remain attached to the Light Side during times of crisis. We feel that we could learn much from your point of view.”

Sasaki sighed and thought for a moment. “All those in favor?”

“Aye,” said all of the Mandalorians bunched off to the side.

“Alright. I agree on behalf of my clan. On three conditions. One: you sit us all down, Skywalker included, and walk us through the basic, a toddler-could-understand-it, learned in the creche information. As you said, we’re missing a lot, and I think a simple foundation to build off of would be beneficial.”

“Agreed.”

“Two: if my clan members want to, and only if my clan members want to, you let us watch your backs in battle. Michio, Athena, Void, Stormborn, Evergreen, and Thunderclap would go absolutely stir-crazy if you actually keep them cooped up in the temple, and antsy Mandalorians around adoptable children is the last thing you want.”

“That will require further discussion and possibly training if necessary but could be possible. What’s the last thing?”

“Don’t you dare assign me to learn under Yoda or Kenobi. I don’t care if this is a temporary decision, I am not joining the Disaster Lineage.”

There were snorts of laughter from all of the Jedi not a part of the aforementioned lineage, and Yagi smiled as Master Windu and Alor Sasaki shook on the agreement.

(The Jedi and Mandalorian shared a mutual wince as even more shatterpoints burst.

It seems that this decision would have consequences. How fun.)

(The Force cackled in glee. Its family was joining at last! Its Disaster Son was getting help! Its Shatterpoint Daughter was gaining knowledge! How fun! Oh, happy day!

Now if the Force’s Son could begin coupling with Its Daughter-in-Law, and Its Daughter finally join together with Its Son-in-Law, it could finally be truly happy in all things.

It wanted more Grandchildren, damnit!)

*****

Orochi shook hands with Master Koon and smiled a small half-smile. “Thank you for taking me on, sir.”

“But of course. I apologize again about not being able to learn under Master Che.”

“It’s fine, really. She’s got an entire medical institution to run during a war. I would’ve gotten in her way too much. And I still get to go in every few cycles to learn.”

“Yes. We will have to check with Coyote and see if you can’t learn a bit from him. I know it wouldn’t be the same as learning under Master Che, and that you already have your medical degree, but practical experience is worth more than its weight in durasteel.”

“Don’t I know it. Is Coyote one of your men?”

“Yes! They call themselves the Wolfpack! I care for them very much.”

If Orochi could do anything, it was recognize when a buir wanted to gush about their children. So he let Master Koon pull up hollo-pics of each of his men and smiled as the Jetii went on and on about them.

“You said that the clones have some semblance of Mandalorian culture? Do you or they know about the Mandalorian adoption vow?”

The Kel Dor’s expression lit up and Orochi began to explain the ritual, deciding that he already liked his teacher immensely.

*****

Mana looked down at the little green troll that was supposed to be her teacher.

The one thing Mana had wanted was for her assigned Jetii to know their way around one of those lightsaber rifles. Unfortunately, none of the boring Council members did, so she just went with the one the Force pushed her at.

It’s her own damn fault for listening to it.

“Hm. Complicated feelings I sense. Directed at the Force, they are. Why, may that be?”

“I trust the Force completely.”

“Trust the Force, you do. Trust yourself with the Force, you do not. Peculiar, this is. Other way around, it usually goes.”

“The Force led me to my family and gave me a way out of hell. I was the demon that tried to drag others down with me.”

“Demon, you are not. Prove it, we shall.”

Without any further warning, the troll smacked her in the kneecaps with his walking stick.

“Son of a--”

“Anger and pain, you feel.”

“No sh*t! That hurt.”

“But revenge, you do not seek.”

“I don’t know. I might snap that stick in two if you try that again.”

“Revenge, that is not. Stopping something from hurting you, you would be. Revenge, a demon would attempt. Therefore, a demon you are not.

“Attempt this again, we can, until you understand.”

“Don’t you-- ow!” The troll smacked her in the kneecaps again, and Mana swore. “That’s it! Give me that f*cking stick!”

Mana spent the better part of an hour trying (and failing) to chase down that troll. Who knew such an old man could be so agile?

*****

“Have you ever seen an Alderanian soap opera, Alor Sasaki?”

“No. And please, just call me Mirai, Master Windu. Alor is more of a ceremonial title if anything. Why do you ask?”

“Because it feels like you should be a part of one.”

Mirai laughed at the man. “Fair enough. Long-lost half-siblings, secret status as a magical being, killer of a dangerous cyborg general. Feels soap-opera-esque to me.”

“There are a few gems if you know how to find them. Depa suggested one that her padawan Caleb and their troops watch to keep up morale on the front. Would you like me to send you the hollos?”

“Yes, that would be lovely. But I think there’s more on your mind than soap operas.”

“Yes. In all honesty, Mirai, I do not know what I can teach you beyond how to control your shatterpoints and their aftereffects. I imagine lightsaber training would be high on that list, but that takes years to master properly and I don’t imagine you wish to commit for that long.”

“I think, Master Windu, that we should just take this one day at a time. We have much to learn from each other, and there is no true timeline on that.”

“No. At least, there shouldn’t be. And call me Mace.”

“Well then, Mace. What’s this soap opera about?”

*****

The next day, Yagi almost tripped over Sasaki on his walk through the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

“Hello,” she said, looking up at him from her position half under a nearby bench, “Are you playing too, or is this just fate?”

“More coincidence, if anything. What are you doing?”

“Hide and seek. I can see a small shatterpoint that will break when I’m found. I’m supposed to pay attention to the cracks and retreat if they spread. The kids are supposed to train their senses and find me. How are you?”

“I’m good. Recovering a bit with my men before we are deployed again. The healer recommended a bit of meditation to recenter myself. This is actually one of my favorite spots for that.”

“It must be fate, then. I can leave, though, if I’m disturbing you.”

“You aren’t. Stay, actually. I think I’d enjoy the company.”

“If you’re sure. Let me know if you see a pack of kids roaming around.”

“Wouldn’t that ruin your training, though?”

“I’d like to think of it as taking advantage of my resources.”

“Sounds like cheating to me.”

“Cheating?! Why, I never--”

Very little meditation got done that day. Instead, the Jedi and the Mandalorian spoke of many things and enjoyed each others’ company, basking in the sunlight together.

(The Force sqee’d with glee! It was happening! Its Daughter had met Its future Son-in-Law! Hooray, more Grandchildren!)